Visionary
by supernaturalsam
Summary: COMPLETE! After a fight with Dean, Sam is left to wonder if his brother would be better off without him. UPDATED APRIL 25, 2007!
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Well, here is my first attempt at a full _Supernatural _fic. This is a "holiday" oriented fic that takes place during the second season but before the events of "Hunted."**

**I would like to thank my two BETAs for their hard work. I wouldn't be able to put this out if it were not for them!**

**Standard disclaimer applies meaning that I own NOTHING except for the troubled thoughts in my mind!**

**Enjoy!**

Twenty-three year old Sam Winchester glanced at his older brother, Dean, watching as anger seemed to come off the older man in waves. It always annoyed Sam how Dean was able to get under his skin and now was no exception. If possible, the small motel room they were sitting in seemed to be getting smaller with each passing minute. The air between the brothers was palpable.

The thing that bothered the young hunter the most was Dean continued to be angry at him even after he thought he'd been profusely apologizing for days since it happened. Why couldn't Dean just let it go? Why did he have to continue to hold a damn grudge? It was Christmas Eve, for cripes sakes. Wasn't Christmas the season for forgiveness?

Sam glanced at his brother again. Dean quickly turned his head away. He knew Dean was trying to hide the fact that he'd been glaring at Sam, but he was doing a piss-poor job of it. Dean was usually able to hide his feelings from everyone—or practically everyone, Sam being the only one who could see through his defenses.

The brothers were as different as night and day when it came to their emotions and how they dealt with them. Dean chose to keep things bottled up and refused to talk things through. He plastered that charming smile on his face and made a joke about everything, even if it wasn't appropriate at the time. Sam, on the other hand, wore his heart on his sleeve. He was a sensitive soul and he wanted to talk his problems and feelings out. He had enough to deal with in his head without his emotions taking up residence up there.

So, here the brothers were, sitting in silence, each battling their own conflicting thoughts and Sam was quickly getting tired of it.

"Dean, you've got to talk to me eventually, man," Sam said, looking at his brother.

Dean took a deep, steadying breath and met his younger brother's gaze with an intense one of his own. His right shoulder was killing him, and the last thing he wanted to do was talk it out with his brother. "I told you I don't want to deal with this now, Sammy."

Sam drew his lips into a tight line. "It's _Sam_," he bit off, "and we are going to talk about this now."

"No, _Sam_, we're not," Dean returned.

"I don't get it, Dean," Sam said, rubbing his hands over his face. "How many times to I have to apologize to you?"

"This isn't something you can just brush under the rug! You could have been hurt, Sam. Hell, we both could have!"

Sam rolled his eyes. "It wasn't that bad, Dean. We weren't even supposed to be in any real danger."

"How can you say that?" Dean asked. "Did you have a heart-to-heart with the ghost? Did she tell you she wasn't going to try to kill us? Where was I when the two of you had this conversation?"

"I did the research, Dean," Sam said, sulking. "We weren't even supposed to be dealing with a malevolent spirit."

Several days before, the Hunters had come to Memphis, Tennessee to investigate reports of a ghost sighting at the abandoned Potter Plantation. Digging into the history of the home had been an easy task for the youngest Winchester. He quickly found out the decrepit mansion had been built in 1823 by William Potter, an affluent lawyer and philanthropist. The home remained in the family until 1982 after Matilda Potter drowned there. Not willing to live on the estate anymore after his wife's death, Nathan Potter packed everything he had and moved to California.

It was shortly after that the sightings began. Buyers who came to view the home were quickly deterred when they said they swore they saw a ghost haunting the place. And the couple of people who did actually buy the place never lasted more than a few months before, they too, packed up and left. Realtors stopped bothering to try to sell the place and it soon fell into total disrepair. Since then the Potter Plantation served as a local haunt for teens and college students looking for a cheap thrill.

The property remained incident free until last week when a teen mysteriously drowned there. At first glance, the boys didn't think it involved anything supernatural until they found out from the teen's friends there had been no signs of water in their friend's lungs or anywhere in the house.

That night, they headed over to the Potter Plantation in hopes of dealing with what was supposed to be an easy hunt. But in Dean's words, Matilda was turning out to "be a bitch" and she wasn't making their job any easier. She created nothing but havoc for the hunters and they would have vanquished her ass sooner if Sam had provided a better diversion for Dean so he could salt and burn her bones.

Instead, Sam didn't pay attention, allowing Matilda to get in a few shots at Dean. Sam tried to rectify his mistake by burning the bones himself while Dean dealt with an injury, but Dean wouldn't hear anything of what Sam had to say.

That happened four hours ago and Sam's guilt was growing by the minute.

_Four hours ago…_

_Sam glanced up from the stack of papers in his lap and snapped off his flashlight as the Potter Plantation came into view. Even in the dark, he could clearly see the state of ruin and disrepair the once magnificent structure now stood. With its boarded up windows, flaking white paint, and neglected landscape, the home, in his opinion, desperately needed the attention of the _Extreme Makeover _team._

"_Looks like no one's home," Dean commented as he brought the Impala to a stop._

"_According to the research, there hasn't been anyone here for nearly twenty years."_

_Dean chuckled to himself as he got out of the car and made his way to the trunk. "I'm a little surprised Ty Pennington hasn't worked his magic on this place."_

_The look Sam shot his brother as he stepped out of the car was one of utter shock and amusement. "How the hell do you know who Ty Pennington is?"_

_Dean grabbed his small duffel out of the trunk after making sure it was packed with their necessary supplies. Before closing the trunk, he grabbed two sawed-off shotguns that were loaded with rock salt. "I'm not sheltered, Sam. I do actually get to watch television every once and a while."_

"_Yes, you do, but it's usually some cheesy action or sci-fi movie grabbing your attention."_

"_What can I say? Maybe I wanted to get some culture in my life."_

"_Forget I said anything."_

"_Fine." Dean tossed a rifle to Sam, then throwing the duffel over his shoulder, he led the way towards the looming mansion._

_Sam shook his head and let the cool night air seep into his bones as he followed his brother. The night was moonless and there wasn't a single star in the sky, but Sam still found it beautiful. It was as if everything was at peace and trying to convince him he could be the same. But the young hunter knew it was something he wouldn't have in a long time, if ever._

"_You coming?"_

_Sam glanced up to see Dean was standing in front of the door, never realizing he stopped walking. Shooting his brother a sheepish grin, he quickly made his way up the rickety stairs and joined Dean._

"_What were you doing down there?"_

"_It was nothing."_

"_Whatever."_

_Finding the door unlocked, they braced themselves on either side, Sam on the left, Dean on the right. Dean nodded jerkily to Sam and the younger man reached out cautiously, grasping the old brass knob in his hand. Taking a deep breath with gun at the ready, he pushed the door open, stepping back to allow his brother passage. Flicking his flashlight on, Sam followed, seeing Dean held the EMF meter in his hand._

"_Anything?"_

_Dean shook his head as he continued to sweep it around. "Where did you say Matilda was buried?"_

"_Back yard. There's supposed to be a small fenced off cemetery back there."_

"_All right; I'm going to go see if I can find it. You stick around here and keep watch. If you see Matilda, keep her busy. The last thing I need is a pissed off bitch ghost after my ass."_

_Sam didn't say anything as he heard Dean exit the home. There really was no point in it; he was used to Dean's orders by now and he learned it was best to go along with them, with little or no argument._

_Shining the light around the home, Sam made his way into the living room. Once again, he was charmed by the beauty this place once held. During his research, he came across pictures of the interior and found the Potter home had once been tastefully decorated in warm country colors such as blues, yellows, and creams, with antique furniture back from the Civil War era. Looking around, he saw a couple pieces of furniture still remained, but they were nothing but broken shells now. _

_Sam's thoughts were interrupted by a loud crash coming from one of the other rooms. He tensed, aimed his shotgun, and slowly made his way towards the noise. He kept his eyes peeled for any sign of movement, but he wasn't having any luck as he walked through the kitchen, into the dining room. Blaming the crash on rats or some other vermin, he lowered his weapon, continuing his search._

_He finished his search of the lower level and was about to make his way to the second floor when he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. The air around him grew considerably colder, and he knew it wasn't because of the dropping temperature outside. Turning around, he never had time to bring up his weapon before he was thrown across the foyer, crashing into a wall._

_The last thing he saw before fading into unconsciousness was a beautiful woman with long, flowing brown hair, dressed in an elegant blue dress, smiling wickedly at him._

_XXXXXXXXXXXXX_

"_I'm a friggin' idiot," Dean told himself as he shined his flashlight around the small graveyard, trying to find the headstone belonging to Matilda Potter. What other answer could he come up with for continuously volunteering himself for the grunt work while Sam got to handle the easy stuff. But Dean knew why he did it—he would always choose the more dangerous of the jobs if it meant Sam would be safe, even if that meant digging up a grave in temperatures hovering just above freezing._

_Finally finding Matilda's headstone, he threw down the duffel and extracted a small shovel from it. He broke into the hard ground and began his excavation._

_A good twenty minutes later, Dean hit pay dirt as the tip of his shovel pierced through wood. He tore at the coffin with his shovel until the decaying bones of Matilda Potter were fully exposed._

"_Good evening, Mrs. Potter." He looked down at her. Tossing the shovel aside, he pulled himself out of the grave. He reached into his duffel and took out the salt, lighter fluid, and box of matches._

_He was beginning to salt the bones when he heard a noise off to his right. He lifted his head, keeping his green eyes alert for anything and everything. "Sammy, is that you?"_

_No answer._

_Blaming it on his imagination, but not entirely believing that, the seasoned hunter continued with his task, making sure he sprinkled a generous amount of salt all over the bones. He was moving on to the lighter fluid when a strong, solid breeze knocked him flat on his ass._

"_Son of a bitch!" Dean quickly got off the ground, grabbed his shotgun, eyes darting around. He knew, without a doubt, the gust of wind wasn't nature's way of telling him, "Hi." It was a spirit and a seriously pissed off one, at that. And that meant one thing to Dean—Sam was not keeping Matilda occupied like he was supposed to be. _Great, the last time I give him the easy job…

"_You won't be needing that."_

_Dean whirled around and found himself face-to-face with the ghostly form of Matilda Potter. He didn't even have time to get off a shot before the gun was ripped from his hands and tossed aside like it was yesterday's garbage._

"_Hey, that gun cost a lot of hard-earned money!" Okay, so maybe that wasn't true. It cost around $200 and it wasn't Dean who paid for it, it was Tommy Morrison and the good folks over at Visa._

_Matilda grinned evilly at him and threw him aside, crashing him into a headstone, breaking it in half. He cursed softly and grabbed his right shoulder, which took most of the impact. _Definitely going to have some bruising there tomorrow, _he thought ruefully as he shakily got to his feet._

"_I thought Sam was supposed to take care of you," he muttered, still holding onto his shoulder._

"_Sam? Is that his name?" Matilda tossed her head back, laughing. "He wasn't much of a challenge."_

_Dean's eyes blazed as he felt fear and anger coursing through his body. It certainly explained why Matilda was standing before him and not Sam—the kid actually let a ghost get the better of him. But Dean would tease him about that later; right now, he had to deal with the psycho-ghost. After all, you didn't get to hurt Dean Winchester's kid brother and not expect to walk away severely maimed or killed. But considering the woman before him was already dead, he only had one option._

"_I'm sending your ass back to Hell, bitch." Ignoring his throbbing shoulder, Dean rolled on the ground and grabbed his shotgun. In the next instant, he was pulling the trigger, shooting Matilda full of rock salt._

_XXXXXXXXXXXXX_

_The throbbing pain in his head caused Sam to jerk awake. He quickly sat up and instantly regretted that action as nausea overtook him. Luckily, he was able to hold it back as his eyes took in the scene around him and a rush of memories flooded through his muddled mind. He had been searching the Potter home when he suddenly gained the ability of flight and went crashing into a wall—that explained the killer headache. He lifted a hand and gently touched the base of his neck where he felt a good-sized lump. And then he remembered a woman—Matilda Potter—smiling down at him before he slipped into unconsciousness._

_Glancing down at his watch, he saw he had been out for fifteen minutes. _I bet Dean's worried about me now…

"_Oh, shit! Dean!"_

_Ignoring the headache and nausea, Sam quickly stood, located his shotgun and ran out the door. He had one job, _one job_, and he failed miserably. He allowed himself to get caught off-guard and now he probably left his brother in a dangerous situation. He would never hear the end of this by the time Dean got a hold of him. _

If I'm not too late…

Stop it, Sam! Don't think like that! Dean is perfectly capable of taking care of himself! _As if to prove that point, a lone gunshot echoed through the quiet December night. Hoping it was Dean doing the shooting but not entirely convinced of that, Sam put on a burst of speed towards the small cemetery._

"_Dean!" he yelled coming up over a small hill. He saw his brother fall to the ground, clutching his shoulder, agony written all over his face. "Dean!"_

"_Hurry and burn the bones, Sam! The rock salt won't hold her for long!"_

"_But—" Sam's concern for his brother was far outweighing his need to burn the bones. _

"_Dammit, Sammy, don't argue with me! Just do it!"_

_Spotting the lighter fluid and matches lying on the ground, Sam quickly picked up both items. He doused the bones in the liquid and threw a few lit matches onto the bones just as Matilda was beginning to rematerialize again. Her deathly scream caused Sam to cover his ears and then it was gone, nothing but the smell of burning bones permeating through the air. He discarded the box of matches and rushed to Dean's side just as he was starting to stand up. "Let me help you."_

_Dean swatted him away. "Get away from me, Sam."_

_Hearing the pissed off tone in his brother's voice, Sam backed away, his concerned eyes never leaving Dean._

"_What happened?"_

_Dean scoffed. "What happened? Casper the bitchy ghost decided to see if I could fly."_

"_Could you?" Sam grinned, but it disappeared quickly when he saw the murderous glare his brother sent him._

"_I'm sorry, Dean."_

"_I don't want to hear it, Sam. Grab the stuff and get in the car."_

_XXXXXXXXXXXXX_

"Maybe you should have done a better job of the research, Sammy," Dean said. "Just because it said she wasn't a malevolent spirit, doesn't mean squat. We've been hunting long enough for you to know to always expect the unexpected."

Sam let the nickname slide this time. "I said I was sorry. I wasn't thinking."

"That's right, Sam. You weren't thinking," Dean said. "And you're supposed to be the smart one in the family," he added, muttering.

Sam saw red and raised his voice several octaves. "Don't hold that over my head just because I went to Stanford. It was a mistake, Dean, an honest mistake. Everyone makes them—including you."

"But I didn't make this one!" Dean said, matching his brother's vocal dynamics.

And there it was—what Sam was finally waiting for his brother to say. And though he didn't say it directly, Sam knew the meaning behind his brother's words—yes, it was a mistake on his part, but it was something that Dean would continue to hold over his head. However, if the roles had been reversed and it was Dean who had made the mistake, he would have merely shrugged it off as if it was nothing and they would have moved on.

"Maybe it would be better if you started to hunt without me," Sam said quietly.

"Maybe it would," Dean said, agreeing quickly.

Sam looked at his brother in mild surprise. He didn't think Dean would actually agree with his suggestion, especially since he rarely let his brother out of his sight since the encounter with the yellow-eyed demon. Getting over his surprise, Sam got up from the bed and grabbed his jacket.

"Where are you going?" Dean asked.

"I need to get out of here for a while," Sam said. "I think we both could use some time away from each other."

"Sam, you don't have to leave."

Sam heard the hint of guilt that crept into Dean's voice, but he didn't care. He was

pissed and he'd be damned if he was going to let Dean sucker him into staying.

"Yeah, I do, Dean," Sam said, reaching for the door. "I'm going for a walk. I'll be back in a little while."

"Sam—" Dean began, but the door clicked shut behind Sam before he could finish.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

As Sam walked down the street, he couldn't help but notice the empty feeling building inside of him. Sure, he and Dean bickered from time to time, but it never went on for this long. They usually found a way to apologize to each other and then move on. So why was this time proving to be different?

Sam pulled his jacket tighter against his body as the cold December wind seemed to cut through him. He smiled politely as he passed a mother and child who had their hands full with last-minute purchases. He felt a pang of jealousy as his hazel eyes took in the shoppers who were bustling to and from the different shops lining the streets. It was something he never really got to experience growing up and it was something he regretted. But that was just the Winchester way—they never felt the need to really celebrate Christmas; not when they knew about all the evil that existed in the world.

But that wasn't saying that Sam never got to experience Christmas, because he did. He remembered when he was growing up Dean would go out of his way to ensure his baby brother got at least one Christmas present. And the great thing about Dean was he never expected anything in return. It was almost as if Sam's happiness was enough of a gift for him.

Sam smiled at the memory and became lost in his treasure trove of thoughts. He seemed to notice a pattern as he was going over them. The only time he was truly happy was because of Dean. God knows his father was barely around enough to make sure that Sam was happy. That was Dean's job—always had been. And now that they were fighting with each other, it was hurting Sam more than he cared to admit. He never wanted to cause his older brother any grief, but when he thought about it, he did it quite often. Dean never got the chance to experience childhood because he was always watching out for Sammy. Sammy was his job, his responsibility.

Sam cringed as a new thought entered his mind. Would Dean be better off without him altogether?

Sam was so focused on that thought alone he never realized he was crossing the street. He never realized a car was barreling straight towards him, not even when the driver pounded on the brakes and the loud squeals filled the cold night air. He didn't realize it until his body connected with the front end of the SUV.

For a brief second, Sam felt himself flying through the air. But that feeling was quickly replaced with one of pain as his tall frame made contact with the cold pavement.

He never even heard the screams of panic as his world became shrouded in darkness.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Dean absently flipped through the basic cable channels on the 13-inch television, not really finding anything that caught his attention. Of course, considering there were mainly Christmas shows on, it was hard for the hunter to find anything that called out to him. But the truth was he really wasn't interested with what was on. It was just something for him to do in order to keep his mind off of Sammy.

He didn't understand why he always had to give his kid brother such a hard time. It just seemed that ever since their father died, he needed something to lash out at and, unfortunately for Sam, he just always happened to be the unsuspecting victim of Dean's anger. But now Dean told himself his anger was under control, he was handling it. He still felt guilty as hell for decking Sam all those weeks ago, but at the time he just couldn't control his rage. Sam just kept saying the right things at the wrong time and he had paid for that.

The amazing thing was that Sam wasn't even angry at him for hitting him. Sure, there had been hurt in Sammy's eyes, but there had also been understanding. Sam knew why he'd done it and he never chastised him for it. Even when he offered Sam a free shot at him, Sam declined and they had taken off for their next hunt. That was what Dean admired most about his baby brother—no matter what happened between the two of them Sam continued to have a level head and reach out to him.

Dean threw down the old remote and leaned his head back against the motel room's poor excuse for pillows. _So why do I always have to pick a fight with the kid? Why do I always have to try and find an argument in everything he does? Why do I have to blame him for everything? And why the hell did I let him walk out that door?_

Because Sam needed space. And even though every instinct told Dean to follow his brother, he had to learn when to hold back and let Sam have some time to himself. And Dean admitted he'd been suffocating Sam a lot in the last few months. But he couldn't help it. He promised his father that he would continue to protect Sammy. And, if anything, Dean always kept the promises he made to his father.

But who was he kidding? Dean knew no matter what, he would protect Sam; he didn't need the promise he made to his father to tell him that. He'd been protecting his baby brother since the day he was born and he would continue to do so until his dying breath. To tell Dean Winchester to stop protecting his brother, well, you might as well tell him to stop breathing.

_Only if Sammy really knew the reason I was protecting him now…_

Dean's thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the sound of squealing brakes and frantic screams. He couldn't figure it out, but those sounds filled him with a sense of foreboding—he could feel his heart beating faster and a chill running down his spine. He quickly jumped off the bed and bolted for the door. Practically tearing it off its hinges, he ran outside to see a crowd was forming on the street, about a block from his motel.

Dean didn't even bother grabbing his jacket as he ran towards the commotion. He stopped short as he recognized the form that was lying in the middle of the crowd.

"Sammy…" he whispered.

He pushed through the crowd of people. "Move out of the way—that's my brother." He got a few nasty remarks but he didn't care. The only thing on his mind was his kid brother, lying hurt on the ground and not moving.

"What happened?" Dean demanded to no one in particular.

"He just—he just walked out in front of—of me," a high-pitched, stuttering female voice said. "I—I didn't see him until it was too late."

Dean quickly glanced at the hysterical woman seeing she was completely unnerved by what happened by the way she was clutching her shirt and the tears that were forming in her dark eyes. But he didn't have time to take her by the hand and tell her that it would be okay. Sammy was the only thing that mattered now…

He looked down and his stomach did a flip-flop as he saw the small pool of blood forming under Sam's mop of brown hair. Full-blown terror unlike anything he ever felt seized Dean and he frantically felt for a pulse. He let out a small sigh of relief when he felt one. It was very faint, but the fact that it was there meant that Sam was still alive.

"Someone call for an ambulance!" Dean shouted.

A small, balding man held up his phone so Dean could see it. "I just called—they're on their way."

Dean nodded as tears began to sting his eyes. "You hear that, Sammy? Help is on the way. You just have to hold on for me."

Dean grabbed one of Sam's hands in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. He hated chick-flick moments as much as the next guy but, by God, he would suffer through it if it meant Sammy would be okay.

Dean wasn't a praying man, but he turned into one in the middle of that street for everyone to see. _Come on, God—Sammy has done everything that has been asked of him. Don't let it end like this. It's not supposed to end like this._

Dean's prayers were drowned out by the sound of approaching sirens.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

It was a known fact that Dean Winchester hated hospitals. But, perhaps, what he hated even more than being a patient was sitting in the waiting room, awaiting word about his brother. He had been sitting in the hard, plastic chair for the past couple of hours, watching the doctors, bustle to and fro, and yet, none of them had stopped to let him know how Sammy was doing.

He was practically climbing the walls now and it was starting to show in his demeanor—he was becoming antsy, almost feeling as if someone had put itching powder in his pants. Dean didn't like the feeling of helplessness weighing down on him. He absently thought it would have been better if Sam had been attacked by a supernatural being, because then he could hunt it and kill it. But it had been Sam's human error and it was completely out of his control; there was nothing he could do about the situation except to sit and wait for the doctors to come and tell him something about his brother.

And so against every fiber of his being, Dean Winchester sat in the chair in a waiting room full of sick people doing what he hated most—he waited.

"Mr. Richards?"

Dean looked up as his alias-of-the-week was being called across the room by a cute twenty-something year old nurse with red hair and piercing green eyes. If it had been any other day, Dean would have been hitting on her so fast it would make her head spin. _It was too bad, really…_

"Are you Mr. Richards?"

What the hell—Dean never was one to let a woman get away without one of his charming smiles. "I am definitely Dean Richards."

Dean felt success as the nurse began to slightly blush. "The doctor is ready to see you now. If you'll follow me, I'll take you to him and your brother."

"That would be great…" he trailed off, searching for her name.

"Alicia," she said, aiming a smile of her own at him.

"Alicia." Dean nodded as he got up from his chair and began to follow her. "So, how's Sammy doing?"

Alicia's smile faltered for a second. "You really should let Doctor Stewart speak to you."

Dean put out a hand and gently got Alicia to stop walking. Turning her around to face him, he said, "Come on, Alicia. That's my little brother in there. I have to know if he's okay or not."

Alicia let out a deep breath and looked at the troubled man standing in front of her. "I'll be honest, Mr. Richards—"

"—Dean."

"Are you a religious man, Dean?" Alicia asked.

Dean glanced at her, caught off-guard by her question. "Not really."

"May I ask why not?" Alicia asked, cocking her head to the side to glance up at him.

Dean shrugged. "I really haven't been given a reason to believe. What I see every day, I'm not really sure if He exists."

Alicia looked at him, and Dean could clearly see he was confusing the hell out of her. And how could he not be? But at the same time, he didn't give a rat's ass. After all, she had no idea what he did or saw on a daily basis. She had no idea about the evil that really existed in the world, and she would, perhaps, never know. But Dean knew he didn't have the time sit and explain his lack of religion to her, not when Sam was lying in a hospital bed in God-knows what condition.

"Sometimes a little faith is a good thing," she said softly. "I'm going to be completely honest with you, Dean, when I say it doesn't look good for Sam."

Dean felt as if someone was punching him in the gut repeatedly. He didn't like what he was being told and he was not about to stand there and accept it. So Dean Winchester did what he knew how to do best, besides hunting. He cracked a joke.

"It's nothing a good stiff drink can't cure, I'm sure," He chuckled weakly.

Alicia nodded her head sympathetically and continued to lead Dean towards Sam's room. Dean inwardly cringed when he saw they were heading towards the ICU ward. It was a place he had been in himself not too long ago, and the last thing he wanted to do was relive those memories again. They had been painful then and time had not yet managed to heal those wounds. He had lost too much during that time and he was still struggling to find himself.

John Winchester said his last words to him there. He told Dean a secret about Sam he was still keeping from his younger brother. And everyday that he lived with it, it was tearing into his heart a little more. And now to think his Sammy was in the same position he was in a few months ago scared to crap out of him.

Alicia stopped in front of a closed door and glanced quickly at Dean. Then she pushed the door open slowly and spoke softly to someone. "Dr. Stewart, Sam's brother is here."

A distinguished looking man with perfectly coiffed dark brown hair and an athletic build looked up from the chart he had been writing on. "Thank you, Alicia."

Alicia stepped back from the doorway and looked at Dean. "You can go in now. I'll be back in a few minutes to check on your brother. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask."

Dean nodded stiffly and cautiously made his way into the room, that act alone surprising him. He could face off with Hell's creatures with little or no fear, but walking into his little brother's hospital room right then scared the shit out of him. Shaking himself, Dean took hold of that fear and tossed it away as he walked further into the room, catching his first glance of his little brother, lying still as death on the hospital bed.

Dean felt his breath catch in his throat, and for one of the very few times in his life, he was speechless. Dean Winchester could not think of any words to say, not even when thousands of thoughts were running through his troubled mind. Sam's head was wrapped in white gauze, and he had an IV running through each arm. Thankfully, the blanket that was covering his long body was hiding any other injuries he might have sustained. What made Dean the happiest was Sam appeared to be breathing on his own volition and that had to mean something, right?

Dean gently picked up one of his brother's hands and grasped it firmly in his own. "How is my brother?" he asked the doctor, but his gaze remained steadfast on Sam and Sam alone.

Dr. Stewart let out an audible sigh as he glanced up at the man in front of him. "It's still pretty much touch-and-go. You brother sustained quite a few injuries in the accident—a concussion, a couple of cracked ribs, a hairline fracture to his left foot, and numerous lacerations and bruises."

"But he's going to be okay." Dean didn't mean it as a question.

"Like I said, it's touch-and-go. I'm a little worried about his head injury, though," Dr. Stewart said. "We're going to keep monitoring him throughout the night."

"He's going to be okay," Dean said again softly, but it was mostly to convince himself of the fact.

"I certainly hope that turns out to be the case," Dr. Stewart said and then glanced down at his watch. "I'm afraid you'll only get a few minutes with him. He needs to get his rest."

Dean shook his head. "I can't leave my brother."

"I'm afraid that it's hospital policy," Dr. Stewart said apologetically.

Dean finally looked up at the doctor, his green eyes pleading. "Please, Doc. We're all that's left of our family. He's all that I have left. I can't let him wake up alone—he needs me."

The doctor looked at Dean strangely, confused at what the young man before him was saying. But the pleading look Dean was giving him finally lent to his consent. "I'll let the nurses know."

"Thank you," Dean said softly.

Dr. Stewart nodded and left Dean to be with his brother.

"Come on, Sammy. You have to wake up, man," Dean said, voice cracking slightly. "Who else is going to keep my ass straight, huh?"

Sam didn't stir.

"I'm so sorry, Sammy…"

**Let me know your thoughts! Another update soon!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: The response has been overhwelming and I have all of you to thank for that. Seriously, you guys made this girl's heart soar with the warm response you sent my way. It is words like that that help me to continue to write. And as a reward, I am giving you this chapter a few days early, so ENJOY!**

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Sam Winchester was dreaming.

It was the only plausible explanation he could come up with. How else could he explain the fact he was standing in the middle of a desolate street dressed in nothing but gray sweatpants and a navy T-shirt, with no shoes on his feet? What amused him most about it was he wasn't even cold, not even when it was clearly evident that the temperature was around the freezing mark. He could clearly see his breath as billowing clouds in front of his face and the sheets of frosty white that blanketed everything in sight.

But Sam Winchester was not cold. If anything, warmth surrounded every inch of his tired body.

Streetlights illuminated the sidewalks, bathing them in a faint pale orange glow. There was not a single soul evident on the streets, even though from the looks of things, the streets should be bustling. The streetlights were making the surroundings look ethereal in presence and it was a feeling that was almost calming and serene to the young hunter—_almost. _But there was something, or rather, _someone_ that was missing and it left Sam with a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Hello?" Sam called, his loud voice startling him. "Anybody out here?"

Sam's hazel eyes darted all around, searching for any sign of another living creature. He needed for someone, _anyone_ to answer him, to assure him that he wasn't alone. It was a feeling that he had never liked even as a kid.

"Hello?" He yelled again, louder still. But silence greeted him once again.

_Dean_, he thought frantically. _Dean had to be here. There's no way he would leave me alone like this…_

"Dean! Dean, where are you?"

Sam began to jog down the street, his eyes alert for any sign of movement. He didn't even feel the snow beneath his feet. It wasn't as if he could feel it anyway, not even if he tried. But it didn't matter anyhow—he had to find Dean and _now_.

"If this is some kind of joke, Dean, it stopped being funny two minutes ago!" Sam called out in frustration.

He looked between every alleyway and though every shop window searching for any sign of his older sibling. His breathing was labored and he could feel his panic level rising when he finally saw it—Dean's beloved '67 black Chevy Impala. He bolted for it, his feet slipping on the ice, but he didn't care. Dean had to be there—there was no way he would have left the car, not voluntarily anyway.

He stopped by the car, pulling frantically at the handle. Not wasting any time, he darted his head in, but there was so sign of his brother. Sam pushed away from the car angrily and screamed in pure frustration. "DEAN!"

He remained where he was for a full minute, looking everywhere for his brother. Finally unable to take it anymore, he dropped to his knees, the cold, wet road soaking through his pants. But he didn't care; nothing mattered if he couldn't find Dean.

"Dean," he whispered.

"He's not here, Sammy," a soft feminine voice said.

Sam froze. He knew that voice and for a brief second, he could feel his heart cease its beating. Recovering, he slowly turned his head around and felt tears spring in his eyes. She was sitting on the hood of the Impala, her soft blonde hair flowing behind her in the gentle breeze. Sam knew that voice and that face and it made his heart soar and ache all at once.

"Mom?" he asked softly, not really believing what his eyes were showing him.

She smiled softly as she stood up and walked towards him, her white nightgown swaying at her feet. Sam wanted to get up and greet her, but for some reason his legs were choosing that very moment not to respond to him. He looked up, transfixed, as his beautiful mother came to a stop in front of him, offering her hand.

Sam stared at the hand, confused. Part of him was screaming to reach out and take the proffered hand, but the logical voice in his head was telling him that this couldn't be real, there was no way his mother could be standing in front of him at that very moment.

"It's okay, Sammy," she said, thrusting her hand towards him even further.

Sam shook his head slowly still not trusting what was in front of his eyes. This couldn't be real. There was no way she could be standing here right now. The last time he had seen her was in Lawrence at their old family home, but she had sacrificed her spirit in order to save him from the poltergeist. So the only explanation that his confused mind could offer him was he was dead.

Mary Winchester shook her head, her smile never wavering. "You're not dead, Sam."

"Then, how—" Sam began, looking up at her.

"Come with me," she said. "I want to show you something."

Sam glanced back down at the hand, his brows furrowed in confusion. He wasn't sure what he should trust, his thoughts right then in a constant battle with each other. Finally, he placed his big hand into her small one and she pulled him effortlessly to his feet.

"Where are we going?" Sam asked, his voice seeming to echo in the silence that surrounded him.

Mary just glanced up at her youngest son and continued to lead him down the deserted street. Sam just shrugged, giving up trying to converse with her since it was clearly evident she wasn't going to provide him with the answers he needed right then. Soon, they came to a stop in front of the automatic doors of Memphis General Hospital, a tall modern building rising up nearly ten stories. They slowly walked into the bustling hospital, Sam noticing that the doctors, nurses, and patients seemed completely oblivious o their newest guests. Not that he was expecting a sudden swelling of music announcing their arrival…

But the fact that no one looked up as they entered confused him to no end. After all, he wasn't someone who was completely hard to miss, considering he probably towered over nearly every person in the building.

Sam glanced around at all of the people, searching for any sign of his older brother. "Is Dean here?"

Mary nodded. "He's upstairs," she said as she led the way to the stairs.

Sam felt fear and panic seize him. "Upstairs? Did something happen to him? Is he okay?"

"Dean's fine, Sam," Mary said softly. Sam looked at her uncertainly as he climbed the few flights of stairs behind her. She turned as if she could sense his uneasiness and smiled reassuringly at him. "Come on, I'll show you."

Sam nodded weakly. _Why in the world would Dean be upstairs if he was okay? What the hell is going on here?_

Mary pushed through a heavy metal door and Sam was instantly greeted with the smell of antiseptic. He followed Mary down a long corridor, fascinated with the nurses and doctors who were milling about, checking on patients and going over charts. He was so engrossed in what was going on around him that he didn't even notice Mary had stopped until he bumped into her. He watched as she gazed into the room sadly and she then looked back at him.

"What is it?" he asked.

She stepped back from the doorway to allow her son passage. Fearful of what he might find inside the room, Sam entered slowly and he instantly felt as if his heart caught in his chest. Someone was seated in an uncomfortable looking chair, his back facing Sam. Even seated like that, Sam instantly recognized who was sitting in that chair.

"Dean!" He rushed to his brother's side, grateful and relieved to see his brother seated there. Now everything would be better—Dean was there, his big brother. Dean could tell him what was happening. Dean could fix everything and reassure him everything was okay, that he was just dreaming that his mother was there with him.

But Dean didn't even flinch at the sound of his baby brother's voice.

Sam waved his hand in front of Dean's face. "Earth to Dean," he said. "Quit screwing around; I know you can hear me."

Dean remained as stoic as ever, his gaze never leaving the prone figure that was occupying the lone bed in the room. Sam furrowed his brows and finally turned to see what it was that held Dean's focused attention.

Sam stumbled back. What the hell was going on here? How could he be lying in that bed when he was clearly standing not two feet away from his older sibling? He felt the panic rising inside of him once again as his brown eyes went back and forth between Dean and his own body lying as still as death on the bed.

"Dean, come on, man, you have to talk to me here. I'm standing right here, right in front of you," Sam pleaded. "Please, say something, _anything_ to me."

"He can't hear you, Sam."

Sam turned, startled, to see Mary was sitting in a chair beside the window. He didn't know how it was possible, but for a moment, he'd forgotten that she was even in the room with him. "Why not?" he asked. "What happened to me?"

"You were involved in an accident not too long ago," Mary calmly explained. "You just haven't woken up yet."

Sam reluctantly walked away from his brother, desperately needing answers from his mother. "Why is this happening? How is it that I can see you? Am I dreaming? Dying?"

Mary smiled her serene smile once again. "I'm here to help you, Sam, to guide you."

Sam shook his head, his shaggy hair falling over his eyes. "Guide me where?"

"On a journey."

"Journey? I don't understand. What kind of journey?"

"Before the accident, you had a fight with your brother," Mary explained. "Do you remember what it was about?"

Sam turned away, once again looking at Dean who was still holding a silent vigil by his bedside. "I made a mistake and Dean got hurt because of it," he murmured. "I told him it would be better if he hunted without me."

Mary gazed silently at her youngest child. "Did you really mean that, Sammy?"

Sam hesitated and then nodded ever so slightly. "I think I did," he admitted after a few moments. "Dean's right—I make mistakes and he shouldn't have to continuously pay for them."

"You were right, too, Sam." Mary rose from her chair to stand behind her son. "We all make mistakes. It's what makes us human."

"But Dean always gets hurt because of my mistakes. He has since we were kids." He tore his gaze away from Dean to look at Mary. "I can't keep doing this to him. I can't keep watching him get hurt because of me."

"He's not getting hurt because of you, Sam," Mary argued. "He's getting hurt because he's protecting you."

"That makes me feel so much better," he muttered walking away to stand next to the window. The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon, painting the sky in soft hues of pink and orange. "I can't keep letting him do that for me."

Mary walked up behind Sam and put her hands on his shoulders. "Your brother will do it, regardless. You of all people should know that, Sam. When it comes to you, he doesn't see anything else. He only knows of one thing and that's to protect you with all he's got. He's been that way since the day you were born and telling him to stop would be like telling him not to breathe anymore."

Sam kept his gaze out the window, considering what his mother was telling him. He knew she was right about Dean. Dean had always been looking out for him since day one, not once hesitating or complaining. He had taken the role of Protector the day their mother had died in that fire all those years ago and he refused to relinquish that title to anyone—not even to their father. Sam was Dean's responsibility and there just was no other way around it. It was a job that his older brother didn't take lightly and it was a job he would hold until the day he died.

"I can't keep leaving him with that burden," Sam finally answered. "It's not fair to him. Dean deserves to have so much more."

Before Mary could reply, Sam heard another sound that made him jump. Dean was starting to speak softly in a voice that sounded foreign to the young hunter's ears. It was a voice that sounded afraid, hesitant, defeated, not confident and strong like it usually was. Sam slowly made his way to kneel in front of Dean so he could hear what he was saying.

"Sam, I need you to wake up, man," Dean was saying. "I can't do this alone; I need you here. I'm sorry I was such an ass back at the motel. You know how I get sometimes—I don't think before I open my mouth—I never have."

Dean glanced down at the hand he held firmly in his own, waiting from some sort of activity from his baby brother, but none came. Sam stood up and stepped away as he heard Dean say, "It's okay, Sammy. I'm not going anywhere until I know you're okay."

"You see, Sam, you're brother doesn't want anything else," Mary spoke up. "He doesn't _need_ anything else. As long as he has you to watch out for, he's happy."

Sam was shaking his head, not wanting to listen. He wanted Dean to have so much more than his personal crusade to protect him from the darkness of the world. Dean always gave everything he had and for once, Sam wanted him to be rewarded for it. "I just can't do it anymore," he said softly.

Mary looked at her son, her eyes wide. "What are you saying, Sam?"

Sam shrugged sadly. "I don't know."

Mary sighed and turned Sam to face her. "You keep saying you want Dean to be happy and you refuse to believe what I'm telling you about your brother. Do you remember me telling you about a journey?"

Sam nodded.

"As your guide, I can take you on a journey." Mary put her hands on Sam's arms. "I can show you three stages—the past, the present, and the future."

"Why does that sound like something from _A Christmas Carol_?" Sam asked, eyes narrowing.

Mary chuckled. "I guess you can say it is," she admitted.

"What would you show me?"

"I will be the guide on your first path. I'll show you how having you here with Dean has helped shape him into the man he is today. I can also show you what would have happened if you hadn't survived the fire all those years ago," Mary explained.

"What are the other two paths?" Sam inquired.

Mary shook her head. "I'm afraid I can't let you in on those. You will have two other additional guides—your present and your future."

Sam looked back to where he was laying in the hospital bed. "What will happen to me?" he asked his voice barely above a whisper.

"You will remain asleep for the entire journey," Mary answered. "At the end, it is entirely up to you which path you choose. If you see that Dean is better off without you, then you will be allowed to go peacefully. But if you decide to remain with your brother, you will wake up as if out of a deep sleep and things will get back to normal."

Sam chuckled ruefully. "Things will never be back to normal, not for us."

Mary shrugged. "As normal as it can be for the two of you, then."

Sam glanced over at his brother, who was now resting his head on the bed and nodded. "I want to do it. I need to know."

Mary held out her hand. "Then let's begin," she said her voice soft, lulling. "Close your eyes and take my hand, Sammy."

**Another update soon!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: I can't believe I am already updating so soon. Believe me, this is something that is not very common for me. I try to update once a week, but this story is just speaking to me and your encouragement is really helping this flow and get updates out sooner.**

**Again, thank you so much for your wonderful, warm reviews. I deeply appreciate them and they are what give this author the fuel necessary for writing. I hope that you continue to enjoy this and as always, leave me your honest opinion.**

**Oh, and a BIG thanks to my BETAs! They really are two of the greatest people, ever!**

**On to the chapter!**

When Sam took his mother's hand, he felt as if he was falling down a never-ending hole. He felt his stomach tying up in knots, his hands were clammy, but there wasn't anything he could do. He kept reaching out, trying to find something to hold on to, but to no avail. After what seemed an eternity, but was probably only mere seconds, his feet softly touched the ground.

He looked up and immediately recognized his surroundings. He was back in Lawrence, Kansas, outside of a small modest home. It wasn't much to brag about with its fading blue paint, grimy windows and unkempt yard, but it was a place the Winchester men called home for a couple of years following Mary's death.

Sam slowly pulled his hand away from his mother and pushed through the old gate to the chain length fence surrounding the yard. It made a loud creaking noise and he paused, knowing someone had to have heard it. Mary nudged him on and they continued to walk towards the door.

"Why did we come here?" He glanced over his shoulder to look at Mary.

"This was where your journey began twenty-three years ago, so what better place to start?"

They slowly ascended the three small stairs and came to a stop on the tiny porch in front of the old, wooden door. Sam held out a hand to open it, but then stopped.

"What is it, Sam?"

"Can we just go in there?" Sam asked, unsure. "I mean, is this going to somehow alter the past, my future?"

Mary shook her head. "Not at all. Think of this as if you are watching a video recording. Only instead of watching it on television, you're seeing it in person."

Sam nodded his head, understanding, and opened the door. It softly creaked on its hinges, but Sam was sure he was the only one who heard it. He stepped into the stuffy home, and was hit with an overwhelming sense of familiarity, striking him as odd. He was only two when John began his crusade to find the thing that killed his mother and he knew he shouldn't be remembering this house. Yet, somehow, it felt as if he only left yesterday.

He could hear small children's voices coming from the right, so he carefully made his way in that direction. He didn't have to turn around to know Mary was still following him. He walked into a tiny, cramped living room, littered with old newspapers, toys, and a few dirty dishes.

Mary let a small laugh escape past her lips. "Your father never could learn how to pick up a mess."

Sam chuckled. "Yeah." He glanced towards the middle of the room—the only visible area in the entire room—and saw two boys playing. A smile instantly lit his face as he saw a six year old Dean, patiently playing blocks with a two year old Sam.

_Dean spelled out a word, desperately trying in vain to get his younger brother to stop knocking them away. "Stop, Sammy. I'm trying to show you how to spell your name."_

_The younger child giggled and went about throwing blocks around the room._

_Dean glanced at Sam, never once losing patience with his baby brother. He just took a deep breath and went about his task. Finally, he was able t complete it._

"_Look, Sammy, it's your name. S-A-M-M-Y." He pointed to each block._

_Sammy looked up at his older brother and smiled. "Dean!" he squealed joyfully. He got up from where he was sitting on the puke green carpet next to Dean and began to jump and run around his brother. Dean glanced down at the forgotten blocks and shook his head as he watched Sam continue to bounce around the room._

"_Be careful, Sammy."_

_But the warning fell on deaf ears as Sam lost his footing and fell face-first to the floor. For a brief second, there was nothing but silence as the young boy lay stunned on the floor. Dean watched him, gauging what his younger sibling's reaction would be. Then the silence was broken as Sammy began to wail._

_Sam glanced up at his brother through tear-filled hazel eyes and Dean immediately jumped into action. He lifted Sam off the floor and offered words of comfort as he checked him over for any obvious sign of injuries. The only thing he could see were the slight red scrapes on Sam's knees where they rubbed against the coarse carpet._

"_Are you okay, Sammy?"_

_Sam nodded, his bottom lip quivering, sobs quieting._

"_You've got to be more careful," Dean softly reprimanded his baby brother._

"_I sorry, Dean."_

_Sam lost the battle with his tears and began to cry loudly once again. Dean hugged the sobbing child close to him, trying to soothe him. "It's okay, Sam. I'm not going to let anything else happen to you, never again."_

Older Sam watched the exchange, a feeling of déjà vu sweeping through him. Dean had said almost the exact same thing to him not too long ago. _"As long as I'm around, nothing bad is going to happen to you."_

"Dean's still like that, to this day," Sam murmured softly.

"Yes, he is."

Sam went on as if he didn't hear her. "Every time we go on a hunt, he does nothing but protect me. It doesn't matter what's coming, he'll take it head on if that means keeping me safe."

"Come on, I want to show you something else."

Sam glanced back down one more time and saw Dean was still comforting his younger self. A small, sad smile flashed across his face as he followed Mary out of the house.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Dean snapped awake as soon as he heard the door to Sam's room open softly. Turning stiffly in his chair and rubbing his eyes, he saw it was Alicia, the nurse he talked to earlier. He glanced briefly at his watch and saw it was eight in the morning—he managed to get in a couple of hours of sleep.

Alicia smiled softly as she checked Sam's pulse. "How are you?" she asked, eyeing Dean.

Dean rotated his neck until he heard a few satisfying pops. "I'm okay."

Alicia nodded and went about her task. After checking Sam's pulse, she moved on to take his blood pressure. Dean kept his eyes on her as she finished her cursory check up, nodded, and made a few notes in Sam's chart.

"How's he doing?"

"Vitals seem to be good."

"Not to question your ability to do your job, but why isn't he awake yet?"

"There could be a number of reasons. It takes some people longer than others to recuperate from serious head injuries. His body needs to take time to heal itself. You just have to give it some time."

Dean chuckled wryly. "Sorry, waiting never was my strong suit."

"I can tell that by looking at you."

Dean glanced up at the cute nurse, a half-smile creeping up on his face. "Am I that obvious?"

"Not really, no," Alicia admitted. "You actually seem the type who hides his feelings. With what I do around here, I've learned to read people."

Dean arched an eyebrow, slightly surprised and suspicious. He didn't like a complete stranger being able to get such a read on him. He was one to always hide his emotions. In all of his twenty-seven years, there was only one person who was able to read him like a book and he was lying in a hospital bed. Dean never was able to hide things from his kid brother. Sure, he did a hell of a job trying to mask those emotions through anger and smart-ass remarks, but no matter what, Sam always seemed to know what he was feeling and to some degree, that bothered the hell out of the older brother.

Alicia smiled apologetically. "Look, I didn't mean to put you on the spot."

"You didn't."

Dean wasn't sure if she believed him or not as she shrugged. "I'm sure you need a break. While it's not the best, there is some coffee in the cafeteria. Why don't you go grab a cup and I'll sit here with your brother until you get back."

Dean could think of a million reasons why he wouldn't leave Sam right then. Alicia seemed to be a nice enough person, but Dean Winchester learned long ago not to take anyone at face value. He met a lot of unsavory people in the past and knew what evils they were capable of. It was best to assume that everyone was bad in his line of work; they had to earn his trust. There was no way he was leaving his kid brother alone, even if it was for no longer than five minutes. Until Sam decided to open his eyes, Dean wasn't budging from that room.

"I'm okay," Dean said—it was a lame excuse and he knew it.

"You don't want to leave your brother, I get it. I have a kid sister and I'm the exact same way with her. Tell you what, you stay here with Sam and I'll go get you some coffee."

Dean flashed her a smile somewhere between sheepish and grateful. He felt sheepish because he was letting this woman see him at his most vulnerable. He felt grateful because she understood his reasoning and she knew why he did it.

"Thanks."

Alicia nodded and quietly walked out of the room. Hearing the door click softly, Dean turned his attention to his sleeping brother. He rubbed a hand through his spiky hair and sighed.

"I know I'm being ridiculous, Sammy, but I couldn't leave you alone. Alicia seems to be a nice enough girl but you just never know, right?"

When Sam didn't answer, Dean chuckled, slightly embarrassed. "I'm not willing to chance that with you, Sammy—not now, not ever." He gave Sam's hand a gentle squeeze, secretly glad his baby brother couldn't hear what he was saying. _He would laugh his ass off if he heard me being all girly on him_, he thought. _Definitely not something I would live down for a long time._

But, God, what Dean wouldn't give to have his brother awake right now. What he wouldn't give to hear that cackle Sam called a laugh. He needed his brother more than he would admit, especially now, especially after he lost John not too long ago. He couldn't, _wouldn't _lose Sam. He couldn't lose the one person he cared most about in this cruel world, the one who gave him reason to fight the good fight.

Not to sound like a horrible cliché, Dean Winchester needed his brother.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

As Alicia closed the door to Sam's room, she couldn't help but let a small smile play across her lips. Sure, she had seen protective family members before—they were expected around a hospital when a person could do nothing more but wait for news of their loved one. In all of her five years working at Memphis General, she never came across one as protective and possessive as Dean Richards. She could tell she was going to have a battle on her hands with him.

To say Alicia Gibbons was a giver would be a complete understatement. Hailing from Montgomery, Alabama, she knew long ago she wanted to become a nurse. She wanted to know she could help people on a daily basis, even if she gave them nothing more than a smile. The fact she was able to care for people professionally gave her more satisfaction than anything else she could possibly do with her life. Besides, she got to meet interesting people every day, like Dean.

It was evident from their initial meeting in the waiting room, Dean and his brother shared a special bond. Though she hadn't gotten the pleasure of speaking with Sam yet, she knew the feeling had to be mutual. It was obvious the love Dean shared for his brother, even though he was doing a fine job of trying to cover that fact up. But it was like Alicia told him—she knew how to read people, she always had.

Even with that talent, Alicia admitted Dean wasn't easy to read. He was putting up a front with her, to show her he wasn't weak. She learned long ago everyone was weak, just some refused to show it more than others. Every person had that one moment of weakness, of complete vulnerability, and when it came to Dean, it was Sam.

Pushing away from the door, she walked past the nurses' station, offering a quick wave, and made her way to the bank of elevators taking up a good portion of the left wall. Pressing the "down" button, she occupied the first available one and made her way to the Lobby, where the cafeteria was nestled between the gift shop and florist.

As she fixed two cups of coffee, her eyes spied some glazed donuts that were just being placed on the buffet line. Popping a few into a small white paper bag, she grabbed the coffee and paid for her purchases. She left the cafeteria and walked back towards the bank of elevators. Juggling the items in her hands, she tried pushing the button, but was having little success.

"Here, Alicia, let me help you with that!"

Alicia turned her head and smiled gratefully as Regina Miller, a woman with short red hair in her mid-forties, who was a good friend and fellow nurse, rushed over. She took one of the coffees from her and held the door open as Alicia stepped inside.

"I thought your shift ended at eight o'clock. What are you still doing here?" Regina asked as the elevator began its slow journey up.

"It did, but I thought I would stick around for a bit."

"But it's Christmas. Surely, you have other plans, better plans, than sticking around here all day."

Alicia shook her head. "Not really. There's just someone here I thought could use a little help, so here I am."

"A patient?"

"A patient's brother, actually."

Regina put on her "mother hen" persona. "Sweetie, do you ever know when to stop?"

"I guess I don't." Alicia took the coffee from her friend and smiled, shrugging helplessly. Regina was right—Alicia never knew when to stop helping people. She tried to do things for herself every once and a while, but always failed miserably. People around the hospital gave her a hard time, but she didn't care.

So, yes, Alicia Gibbons was a giver.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sam felt as if he was going through a time portal. As soon as he stepped out of his old home in Lawrence, he stepped into another world, one that was all too familiar. He was sitting in the backseat on his brother's beloved classic Impala, with his mother right beside him. From his position, he could see Dean driving and his younger self sitting in the passenger seat. The only difference was now he was a gawky thirteen year old, not a baby.

"_Come on, Sammy," seventeen year old Dean was saying. "You need to tell me what's going on."_

_Sam stared out the window, sulking. "I don't want to talk about it," he said in a slightly nasal voice—it was obvious this Sam had not yet reached puberty._

"_Sam, I had to pick you up in the middle of the school day, which is weird in itself. Usually it's me who's getting picked up." Dean glanced at his younger brother. "Now, tell me what's going on with you."_

_Sam stubbornly shook his head, his mop of brown hair falling over his eyes. "It's nothing."_

_Dean let out a long, weary sigh. He usually hated when his baby brother was in one of his broody moods. It meant he had to work much harder to get the information he wanted out of him. He glanced at Sam again, and seeing his brother's gaze remained focused on the passing scenery, jerked the wheel to the right and pulled over onto a grassy strip. He killed the engine, but didn't look over at Sam._

"_Why did you stop?"_

"_Because you're going to talk to me," Dean answered. "The way I figure it, Sammy, you have two options: you can either tell me what's going on or we can go back to the motel and wait for Dad to get back and you can tell _him _why I had to drop everything to pick you up."_

"_The remote control must have been sad to see you go."_

"_All right—you made your choice." Dean reached for the keys, but Sam stopped him._

"_No, wait!" His young voice sounded panicked. "I don't want to talk to Dad!"_

"_Then you better come up with something for me within the next five seconds."_

_Sam glanced down at his lap, playing absently with the hem of his shirt. Dean could almost sense the battle going on in his kid brother's head. Sam was afraid of something and Dean knew that. But his hesitation told Dean Sam was also afraid of how we would react. Dean always was a little hotheaded when it came to Sam._

"_Clock's running down, Sammy," Dean said, glancing sideways at him. But he didn't sound annoyed or aggravated, he was trying to get him to open up. It amazed Dean how much patience he could posses when it came to Sam._

_Sam took a deep breath, his brows furrowed, though Dean couldn't seen them because of his hair. _God, the kid needs a haircut_, he thought to himself._

"_It's the kids at school."_

"_What about them? Are they still giving you problems?"_

_Sam nodded weakly._

"_Damn it, Sammy!" Dean hit the steering wheel in frustration, causing Sam to flinch. He took a calming breath and glanced at the sulking boy once again. "What are they saying?"_

"_Don't worry about it, Dean. It's nothing."_

"_Yeah? It doesn't sound like nothing to me, Sam! Now, you either tell me what's going on or I'll turn this car around and find out myself."_

"_They just won't leave me alone. They keep picking on me and saying things about Dad, about our family."_

"_What things?"_

"_Tom heard his dad talking to a couple of the neighbors. He said his dad heard Dad talking the other night at the bar. He was drinking a lot and Tom's dad said Dad was mumbling about demons and fires and stuff. But Dad would never do that, right Dean?"_

"_Sam, you know how Dad can get sometimes. All this hunting, it does something to him. When he starts drinking, he gets a little careless. But you know that kind of stuff is real, Sammy. You've seen it with your own eyes."_

"_I know I have, but I can't tell them that. Then they really would give me hell."_

"_You can't let them get to you like that, Sam. The things you've witnessed would make every one of those guys piss their pants if they ever came face-to-face with them."_

"_That's not all, Dean."_

_Dean cocked an eyebrow at his younger sibling. "There's more?"_

"_They said you and me were going to end up just like Dad, follow in his footsteps, spouting to the heavens or anyone who will listen about monsters and demons. They said it was a good thing Mom died when she did—then she wouldn't have to see what we've turned into—a bunch of nut jobs."_

_Dean clenched the wheel tightly, his knuckles turning bright white. He gritted his teeth and tried to take deep, calming breaths but he was having a hard time focusing on anything but his anger. Who do these little bastards think they are, spewing out shit like that to his baby brother? Where the hell did they get off speaking about his family like that? Dean wasn't stupid—he knew his family was broken, they had been since that damn fire. But it didn't give _anyone _the right to rub it in Sam's face, especially when the kid blamed himself for the misery that had been brought down on their family._

"_Sam, I want you to look at me and listen." Dean's voice was firm. "I don't want you to pay attention to anything they say to you, year hear me?"_

_Sam nodded._

"_Good. If they say something else to you, I want you to deck them."_

_Sam shook his head. "Dean, I can't do that."_

"_Yes, you can, Sammy. You know how to fight, so do it. Quit letting those idiots walk all over you. The sooner you do something about it, the sooner they leave you alone."_

"_But, Dean, I'll get in trouble."_

_Dean shrugged. "Then get in trouble, Sam. You don't have to prove to everyone what a saint you are. The most you'll get is a three day suspension, and it will be worth it."_

"_But Dad—"_

"_Don't worry about Dad. I'll deal with him."_

_Sam nodded and turned to look out the window once more. Dean nodded, satisfied. Okay, sure…he shouldn't have told the kid to fight, but what else could he do? And though he would, Dean couldn't fight every one of Sam's battles; he had to learn to fight for himself. While Dean was sure there would be a fall out from John, he welcomed it. He told Sam he would deal with their dad and he meant it._

_Starting the car and pulling onto the road once more, Dean barely heard Sam. "Thanks, Dean."_

Sam blinked and instead of sitting in the back of the Impala, he and Mary were standing on the side of the road where the car had been. Sam chuckled to himself and smiled.

"What is it?" Mary asked.

"I did what Dean told me to do—I fought those guys with all I had. I remember Dean was so proud of me, but Dad? Dad was pissed. And like Dean promised, he took care of it."

"Like he always has, Sam."

"Yeah." Sam let out a deep sigh. "So, what happens now? Where do we go next?"

"Now, I show you what would have happened. I'll show you how Dean would have grown up if he didn't have you in his life, Sammy."


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: The great reviews just keep coming and I have every one of you to thank for that. They really mean more to me than you will ever know, so I deeply thank you for them!**

**Well, here is the next chapter...we now get to see a little of what would have happened to Dean if he didn't have Sam. Remember this is AU, so these visions are ideas that I have come up with for Dean.**

**Enjoy and show me some love by reviewing!**

Sam felt cold all over.

Not even the warmth of his mother's hand in his could chase away the chill racing through his tall frame. Sam didn't like this feeling, desperately wanting, _needing_ it to go away. But he knew it wouldn't go away, not until he saw why his mother led him here, to this cold place. It wouldn't go away until he opened his eyes and saw what this world had to show him.

Sam opened his eyes and felt as if he'd been punched in the gut. It was the same house from earlier, but it felt different, colder. If the house from his first flashback was in a state of semi-disrepair, this house was in total neglect. No effort had been made to do anything about the small home. The chain length fence was broken in several places and the small gate there before was gone. Shutters hung limply from the windows and junk littered the small front yard.

_There is no way someone can live here, _he thought wildly. _How could someone live here? Why?_

"Please tell me Dean's not in there," Sam whispered. He turned his hazel eyes to his mother, pleading with her to tell him otherwise. He couldn't believe his older brother, his hero, his Dean was living like this. Dean deserved better than this. He deserved so much more than anyone could possibly give him.

"I can't tell you what you want to hear, Sam. I would only be lying to you and I can't do that," Mary said. "I would love to make up some story for you and have you believe it, but I won't. You wanted to know what your brother's life would be and this is it. There is no sugarcoating it."

Sam nodded weakly. He knew Mary was right—he asked to see this different life, no matter how bad or good it may become. He needed to know if Dean truly was better off without him. But what he was seeing right now, without even going in the house, was discouraging to the young hunter.

Realizing he wasn't going to get anywhere standing on the front lawn with his thoughts, Sam slowly walked up the rickety steps and entered the home. A smell almost like rotting garbage permeated the air and Sam gagged. Taking a deep breath through his mouth, he pressed on and walked into the living room he was in earlier. It was still messy like before, only now there was the absence of toys. Sam did see there was one clear spot in the room, the area near the small 19 inch television. In order to walk, a person had to climb over the trash. Sam couldn't stop the pang of hurt tearing through his body.

"My God," he whispered. His brows frowned in deep concern as he surveyed the scene around him. This didn't feel right to him. Where was the love, the care he felt before? And why, for the life of him, could he not get warm?

"I'm sorry, Sam," Mary said softly.

Sam turned to look at his mother and saw that she seemed to mirroring his exact feeling and expression. _Apparently, she didn't think it would be this bad, either_.

"Mom, this isn't right. Dean can't live like this, it doesn't make sense."

"Sometimes the truth isn't supposed to. You have to remember, Sam—Dean doesn't have anyone to take care of now, only himself. He has no one to protect, look out for, so it doesn't bother him to live like this."

Sam swallowed hard. He began to look around, searching for any sign of his brother. He slowly made his way to the kitchen and he felt the sick feeling all over again. There were dirty dishes in the sink that Sam was sure had been there for a few days now. He felt his skin crawl as a couple of cockroaches scurried along the dishes.

Hearing a noise to his left, Sam looked up to see his brother sitting at the small round kitchen table, eating a bowl of cereal. Sam wanted to call out to him more that anything, but he knew it wasn't possible. Instead, he continued to watch sadly. Only the sudden knock at the door pulled him away from his reverie.

_Seven year old Dean Winchester jerked his head up at the sound of the knock. Who in the world could be knocking on the door? He knew no one around their small neighborhood so that meant it had to be a salesman of some kind. He threw his dirty cereal bowl into the sink full of dirty dishes—he would clean those later—and cautiously made his way to the door. Seeing the small rifle tucked away safely next to the door, he put his small hand around the barrel, and barely pulled back the curtain. His heart plummeted—not who he wanted to see today._

_A tall woman with short blonde hair dressed in a gray business suit was accompanied by a short, plump cop. That meant only one thing to the young Winchester—social services. This wasn't the first time he had to deal with them; they always seemed to pop by at least twice a month. But this was the first time a cop had shown up and the first time Dean would have to deal with them alone._

_Another knock sounded and the seven year old let out a sigh. Stowing away the gun and plastering on his most brilliant smile, he opened the door to one disapproving glare and a smile Dean knew was fake._

"_Hello, Dean. Can we come in?" the woman asked. Dean remembered her name was Ms. Willoughby._

"_My dad told me not to let anyone in."_

_Ms. Willoughby nodded approvingly. "That's very good, Dean. Your dad taught you well. But you know me, I'm not a stranger. So, do you think Officer Lewis and I could come in and talk to you?"_

"_My dad will get mad."_

"_Where is you father, son?" The officer was not hiding his disdain. Dean was sure the cop was forced to come here._

"_He went out."_

"_When will he be back?"_

"_In a little while."_

"_Dean, we really would like to talk to you." Ms. Willoughby still wore the annoying smile. Dean wondered if her face would stay that way if she continued to keep smiling._

_Dean studied the two adults in front of him. His dad really would get upset if he let them in the house. His number one rule was not to open the door for anyone, cops included. And, well, Dean already screwed that one up by peeking out the curtain—he had had no choice but to open the door then. So, it was much too late to slam the door in their faces and pretend like he wasn't there._

"_Son, you can either let us in or we'll come in ourselves," Officer Lewis said. Dean saw Ms. Willoughby's smile falter, but she recovered quickly._

_Dean finally opened the door and stepped back to allow them to come in. The two adults followed him to the living room. Dean knocked a few things off the ratty sofa so they could sit, then took a seat in the small beige chair across from them._

"_Dean, how are you doing?" Ms. Willoughby pulled out a small notepad and pen from her purse._

"_I'm okay."_

"_How long has you dad been gone?"_

"_A couple hours," Dean lied._

_Ms. Willoughby frowned as she glanced at something written in her notepad. "That's not what the neighbors told us."_

"_They don't know what they're talking about." Dean stiffened, feeling energy course through his small frame. He didn't like people, especially people he didn't really know, talking about him, his family when he couldn't be there to defend himself._

"_Several of them said your dad has been gone for three days."_

"_They don't know what they're talking about," Dean insisted._

"_Are you telling me that they're lying to me?"_

"_Yeah."_

_Ms. Willoughby nodded. "Why would they do that, Dean?"_

"_Because they don't like us."_

"_Why don't they like you?"_

"_I don't know—why don't you go ask them?"_

"_Because I'm asking you."_

"_I don't know."_

"_Dean, this isn't the first time your dad has left you, is it?"_

"_He's busy. I can take care of myself."_

"_Dean, you're a seven year old child. You need an adult with you at all times."_

"_I'm not a child." Dean got up from his chair and stormed over to the window, anger coming off him in waves. How dare these people come in here and tell him what he needs. He knew how to take care of himself—he wasn't lying about that. So what if John spent a lot of time away from home? Dean knew why he did it—he had to find what took Sammy and his mom away from them. And if that meant Dean had to stay at home by himself for days on end, then so be it._

"_I don't need anyone."_

"_Where is your father, kid?" Officer Lewis asked, losing all patience._

"_I told you he's out."_

"_Working?"_

"_Yeah."_

_Officer Lewis shook his head in frustration. "This kid isn't going to tell us anything."_

_Ms. Willoughby got up and walked over to Dean. She put a hand on his shoulder and turned him to face her. "We're going to have to ask you to come with us, Dean."_

_Dean tore away from her grasp and stared at the woman, eyes blazing. "No! I won't!"_

"_I'm afraid you don't have a choice."_

"_I'm not going! You can't make me! I told you I could take care of myself! My dad will be back soon."_

"_And he can come down and see me when he does."_

"_I won't go!"_

_Ms. Willoughby nodded at the officer. He walked over to Dean and grabbed him by the arms. Dean immediately began to struggle in the older man's grasp, but his grip only tightened. Finally, seeing no other option, Dean stomped on the officer's foot and tore for the door. He yanked it open and ran smack into another pair of arms. Looking up, he saw another officer. Somehow, he failed to notice Officer Lewis had a partner waiting outside._

_Ms. Willoughby and Officer Lewis came out of the house. Dean continued to struggle, screaming at them the entire time. Before they could get him to the car, a loud rumbling could be heard and Dean looked up to see his father driving up in his beloved Impala, coming to a hasty stop._

"_Dad!"_

_John was out of the car in mere seconds, storming up to them. "Let go of my son."_

_Ms. Willoughby stepped in front of the irate father. "Mr. Winchester, I have orders to take Dean into custody."_

"_What orders?"_

"_The judge doesn't think Dean is safe here. Until a hearing can be set up, Dean is in the custody of child services."_

"_You can't take my boy away." John made a grab for Dean, but Officer Lewis quickly stepped between father and son._

"_I don't have any choice, Mr. Winchester," Ms. Willoughby said._

"_Yes, you do. You can leave him the hell alone and leave."_

"_I'm sorry, Mr. Winchester." She nodded at the officers and Lewis's partner continued to escort the struggling boy to the car, as Lewis stood interference._

"_Dad! Don't let them take me! Tell them, Dad! Tell them I belong with you!" His cries muffled as the car door slammed. He tried to open the door, and finding it was locked, started to pound on the windows._

_He watched as his father stood there, seething, as the car slowly drove away from his home._

Sam watched the scene outside unfold standing on the small front porch. He heard the fear in his brother's voice as he was taken away from his home. He saw the hurt and anger etched on his father's face as John watched, helplessly, as his last remaining family was taken from him. He saw the defeat in his father and wished there was something he could do.

"Are you okay, Sam?"

Sam glanced over at his mother who stood beside him, watching her husband. Sam could see a lone tear trailing down her cheek. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did they have to take Dean away? He and Dad—they're all they have left. Why take them away from each other? Why did Dad let Dean live like that? Why couldn't Dad take care of Dean? Why did they never take me and Dean away before?"

Mary sighed. "I can't answer everything for you, Sam. What is missing from your brother's life now that wasn't in the other flashbacks?"

"Me."

"Yes. Dean had someone to take care of then. He had someone he was responsible for and more than anything, he was going to protect you from everything he could. He was going to make sure you had a good home and a safe environment to grow up in. Your brother had more to live for then. Now, Dean only has to take care of himself, and for some reason, it isn't as important to him. He doesn't have someone who will look up to him for guidance, for strength, not like he did before."

"So, is this my fault?"

"Not at all. Dean just has a different mindset now. He had someone older to take care of, but he only did that out of necessity, to make John happy. Taking care of an adult is a lot different than caring for a small child, Sam."

Sam sighed. He knew his mother was right. Dean always took care of his family, but it was always more directed towards him, his younger brother. Dean always gave everything he had to ensure Sam was safe from everything and had a healthy environment around him—at least as healthy as moving from motel to motel could give. But with John, Dean only did what had to be done, and not because he didn't love his father, but only because it wasn't Sammy.

"Does Dean ever get to come back?"

"No."

Sam swallowed hard. "What happens to him?"

"He stays in the system, going from home to home. He never does find the home he had when he was here."

"I want to see more. I have to know what happens to him."

Mary nodded. "I can show you one more."

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Dean pushed away from the window as he heard the door to Sam's room open. He quickly rushed over when he saw Alicia balancing two cups of coffee and a small paper sack, all the while opening the heavy door. Grabbing both coffees from her, he held the door open with his foot to let her in.

"Thanks."

"No problem." Dean set the coffees down on the small table.

Alicia held up the paper sack. "Thought you might be hungry—glazed donuts. Not exactly Krispy Kreme, but they are somewhat edible."

Dean chuckled and took the proffered bag. "I've had worse."

Alicia nodded and smiled. "So…do you mind if I join you?"

"Don't you have other patients to check on?" Dean asked, taking one of the sugary pastries.

"My shift ended thirty minutes ago."

"Not to sound rude, but what are you still doing here, then?"

"I don't feel like going home right now."

"Why not?" Dean asked his mouth full.

Alicia sighed. "Do you want me to join you or what?"

Dean quickly swallowed the bite, giving her a half shrug. "You can if you want to."

"Was that so hard?" Alicia picked up one of the coffees and took a sip as she sat down.

Dean looked at this woman in front of him in wonder. He'd always been attracted to strong women and Alicia was certainly that. She was steadily holding her own and not letting him get to her. Truth be told, Dean wasn't even trying at this point. Maybe it was the lack of sleep and the constant worry for his brother, but Dean wasn't putting on his best show. But he was increasingly sure he liked this nurse.

They sat in awkward silence for a long moment, the only sound in the room the incessant beeping from Sam's heart monitor. Dean grabbed another donut and offered the bag to Alicia, but she declined with a wave of her hand. He alternated between bites and sips of the piss poor excuse for coffee—Alicia hadn't been lying about that. But at that point, the hunter didn't care—any coffee right then was good enough for him.

Not able to take the silence anymore, Dean spoke up. "So…"

"So…"

Neither one said anything and the room again grew silent, except for the heart monitor. Dean glared at it thinking of at least a hundred different ways he could destroy the annoying contraption. One involved beating it to a pile of scrap with the crowbar in the trunk of the Impala and yet, another involved sending it right out the window. With the ICU ward on the seventh floor, Dean was pretty sure he could do some serious damage to it. If nothing else, it would serve as a great stress reliever for his frazzled mind.

"Does that damn thing ever stop beating?" he muttered.

"Sure. When the patient dies."

"Oh…well, that wouldn't be good."

"No, it wouldn't."

Dean let out a deep sigh. He didn't do good with silence, never had. And while he hated it, with their amazing track record of keeping a conversation going, he was sure they could sit like this all day.

"So, you and your brother—you're not from around here, are you?"

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, you don't have the accent, for one."

"Right," Dean nodded. "We were actually just driving through."

"Where are you from?"

"Kansas."

"How did you end up all the way over here? Do you have family this way?"

"No, Sam and I, we're on a road trip."

"That sounds exciting. How long have you been traveling?"

"Uh, a little over a year now."

"Wow, I would certainly call that a road trip."

"Yeah, we just decided to hit the road, you know? Get out, see the sights, see what life has to offer."

"How's that been?"

Dean chuckled. What could he possibly say to this woman? The "sights" he and Sam had seen were not things dreams were made of, they were nightmares, plain and simple. The worst thing Alicia probably seen was…well, Dean wasn't so sure of that. He did know anything she'd seen could never compare to what he and Sam saw on a daily basis. So, how could Dean answer her question? "It's been…interesting."

"That's a strange answer."

"Yeah, so, what about you?"

"What about me?"

"What's your story?"

Alicia shrugged. "Nothing special, really. Just a country girl from Alabama."

"Alabama? What made you come up to Tennessee?"

"Just needed a change. I needed to get away from my family, but not far enough where I couldn't drive down if I wanted to see them."

"Are you and your family close?" Dean looked into his coffee cup and frowned when he saw there was nothing left.

"Yeah, we are." Alicia smiled. "Especially me and my kid sister, Mollie. She just turned fifteen last month. She has autism."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

Alicia shook her head. "Don't be. She's not. She just accepts what happened to her and she lives life everyday. She wakes up with a smile on her face, ready to face the world. I truly admire that about her. She really is my hero."

Dean glanced over at his slumbering brother, a ghost of a smile on his lips. Mollie sounded exactly like his kid brother. Sam was the strongest and most loyal person he knew. He never told Sam, but his baby brother was his strength, the only reason he had to live and survive in this world. Sam had this uncanny ability to see good in everything and everyone and still maintained an innocence Dean could only hope he possessed.

"You really care for him don't you?" Alicia asked.

Dean looked up to see she was studying him. "Yeah, I do. He's my family, all I've got left."

"So you parents?"

"Both gone. It's just me and Sammy now."

"I'm sorry to hear that," she said softly.

Dean nodded. _Okay, Sammy. Anytime you want to wake up would be great. I'm spilling my heart out to a woman I barely know and you know how I hate these chick-flick moments._

_Come on, Sam…I really need you here._

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

_Sixteen year old Dean Winchester let out a frustrated sigh as he glanced down at his digital watch—again. It was quickly approaching eleven o'clock, the November night growing colder by the moment and he was not happy. T.J. said he and his cousin, Danny, would be there by ten thirty and Dean could see it wasn't turning out to be the case._

_Standing outside Al's Used Car Sales, Dean paced, taking in the scenery around him. It was quiet, just the way he liked it. It seemed as if the small town of Dearing, Kansas went to bed at the exact same time and it suited him just fine. It only made what he, T.J. and Danny were going to do much easier, meaning no witnesses. Dean could do easier—he didn't like for things to be complicated. _

_That wasn't saying he didn't like a challenge, he thrived at it actually. Breaking a car out of Al's wasn't going to be an easy task, considering the lot was surrounded by an eight foot chain length fence, but Dean had, at least, found a way in. The absence of video cameras made it better—it meant if they were really discreet, no one would know a thing about tonight. One thing you could say about small town life—they really underestimated their safety. It was one thing Dean never quite understood._

_He stopped pacing when he heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Looking up he saw a tall, lanky boy with dirty blonde hair accompanied by a shorter guy with curly black hair, approaching—T.J. and Danny. They were darting their eyes all around, keeping alert for any unwanted attention._

"_What the hell took you so long?" Dean growled._

_T.J. shrugged. "Dude, do you know who my dad is?"_

_Dean nodded, still angry but understanding. T.J.'s dad was Buddy Dorian, the town sheriff. It couldn't be easy to be a cop's son, Dean knew that much. It only made what they were going to do that much more interesting. He could only imagine the sheriff's reaction when he found out his own son was a criminal._

_Dean was glad he didn't have to worry about crap like that. Being a child of the system, he got bumped from family to family on a regular basis—he never could hold onto one for long. He just couldn't get into the whole family idea—he was better off by himself and he knew how to take care of himself. That wasn't saying he didn't respect his newest family—the Richards—they did their best to make sure he was happy but he just couldn't be the son they deserved and wanted him to be._

"_He's not going to surprise us, is he?" Dean asked._

"_No, he was asleep when I left."_

"_Good, let's get this done." Dean walked towards the back of the lot, T.J. and Danny at his heels._

"_Dean, how do you expect to get the car out of the lot?" Worry tinged T.J.'s voice._

_Dean sighed. He was beginning to question why he asked T.J. and Danny to come along. T.J. was always one to ask questions until he was blue in the face and it always grated on Dean's nerves. Dean could tolerate Danny—the guy rarely said a word, which meant no questions which led to a happy Dean._

"_Out the front gate. What the hell do you think?"_

"_The front gate is locked."_

"_Which is why I have this." He stopped in front of the back of the fence where a good sized hole was cut and picked up a pair of bolt cutters lying on the ground. "This can cut through anything, including piece of shit locks."_

"_Okay." T.J. still seemed hesitant, which only flared Dean's anger._

"_Look, do you want to do this or not? Because I will do it alone if I have to hear any more of your bitching."_

"_I wanna help. I told you I did."_

"_Good, then shut the hell up."_

_T.J. nodded and did as he was told. Dean nodded, satisfied and wormed his way in through the hole. He already knew which car he was going to hit; he'd had his eyes on it for a few weeks now. It was a black 1989 Pontiac Firebird with red leather interior. She was every bit a beauty and she knew it. She'd been beckoning for Dean for days now, just begging him to take her on the open road. Dean was never one to disappoint, especially to something as gorgeous as she was._

_Dean cautiously made his way over to his newest obsession and rubbed a hand caressingly over the chassis. She was even more magnificent up close. He looked back over at Danny and T.J. who were standing to the side, watching him. Dean tossed the bolt cutters to T.J. "Open the gate."_

"_Do you have the keys to the car?"_

"_Don't need the keys. Now, go." Dean found the door to the car unlocked, which didn't surprise him in the least bit. Again he questioned this town's lack of security as he slid into the car and said a silent apology to her for what he was about to do. Dean hadn't been lying to T.J.—you didn't need keys if you knew how to hotwire a car, which was something Dean became very good at over the years._

_Pulling down a couple of wires, he slipped the casing off and hit them together causing a few sparks to erupt. It took a few tries, but finally the car burst to life with a satisfying purr. This had been too easy. He shut the door and saw T.J had the gate open. He rushed over as Danny climbed into the backseat and fell into the front seat._

"_Let's see what this baby can do." Dean smiled and gunned the engine. Its loud roar pierced the quiet night, but Dean didn't care if they heard it in the next town. This was so worth it._

_The car peeled out of the lot, leaving behind skid marks on the asphalt. Soon, they were on the open road or what constituted as an open road in this hick town, the boys cheering and laughing. But their victory was short-lived as a siren pierced the through the night. Dean glanced up in the rearview mirror to see a police cruiser, lights flashing, was quickly approaching them._

"_Son of a bitch," he muttered, pressing the accelerator down a little harder._

"_Crap! It's the cops!" T.J. said, glancing over his shoulders._

"_Thanks for the update, Sherlock."_

"_What are we gonna do?"_

"_I don't know—just let me think." Dean really couldn't think of anything. They could have driven all night, but glancing down at the gas gauge, Dean saw there was only half a tank left, meaning the chase wouldn't last too long. Dean could try to lose the cop, but again, this was a small town and didn't provide many places for hiding. The way he figured, they were pretty much screwed both ways._

"_Dean!"_

"_Damn it, T.J.! I told you I was thinking!" And he came up with a decision. This whole thing had been his idea and there was no sense for T.J. and Danny to take the fall. He pulled the wheel sharply to the right and brought the car to a sudden stop. "Get out and take off. They can't come after all of us."_

"_Wait! What are you going to do?" T.J. asked._

"_Don't worry about me. Get out of here now, or I'll turn you over to the cops."_

_T.J. looked back at Danny and both boys nodded. The quickly scrambled out of the car and tore into the woods as the cop pulled up behind Dean._

_Dean sighed as he looked into the rearview mirror to see who was going to grace him with their presence tonight—Sheriff Buddy Dorian—he didn't like Dean almost as much as Dean didn't like him. This wasn't the first time they ran into each other and Dean was sure it wouldn't be the last._

"_Come out of the car with your hands up!"_

_Dean chuckled—the sheriff really needed to work on his act, but he did as he was told and exited the car, hands above his head._

"_Evening, Sheriff."_

_Dorian clucked his tongue in disapproval. "Well, well, well…if it isn't Dean Winchester."_

"_The one and only."_

"_You mind telling me what you were doing tonight?" Dorian pointed at the Firebird._

"_Oh, you know…just taking a drive."_

"_In a stolen car?"_

"_More like borrowed without asking."_

_Dorian chuckled. "You know the drill, Winchester."_

_Dean turned around and put his hands on the roof of the car. Yes, he knew the drill, quite well as a matter of fact. He'd done this several times since he moved to Dearing. All petty stuff, really—vandalism, burglary, trespassing—but those little things added up quickly. _

_As Dorian cuffed him and read him his rights, Dean couldn't help but wonder if his luck with the law had finally run out. Dorian told him if he was arrested again, he would serve time and one thing could be said about the good sheriff—he always kept a promise._

"Dean gets arrested?" Sam asked in complete disbelief.

"He never could find a place where he fit in," Mary explained. "He had a lot of anger and frustration built up inside, he didn't know where to channel it, so he picked a life of crime. It was quick and easy and gave him satisfaction, if only for a short while."

"But he gets out, right? He does better?"

Mary shook her head. "He serves two years since he was a minor and is released when he was eighteen. After that, he spends two years looking for John and finally finds him in Nebraska, in the middle of a hunt. They have a good year together until John is killed when Dean is twenty-one."

"The Demon?"

Mary nodded sadly.

"What happens then?"

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that, Sam. It's not my place."

"What do you mean? Why can't you tell me?"

"I'm sorry, Sam, but that's for the second part of your journey."

"Wait, you're leaving?"

Mary cupped her young son's face in her hands. "It will be okay, Sammy. You're going to be in good hands."

"No, Mom, I'm…I'm not ready to say good-bye to you yet."

Mary smiled. "It will be okay, Sammy. I'll always be with you, you have to remember that. I'm never that far away from you."

"No, Mom…"

Mary grabbed her son into a hug and kissed him on the cheek. "Take care of yourself, Sam, and take care of Dean, too. He needs you more than you realize."

Sam blinked back tears as he watched his mother disappear. It wasn't fair—he wasn't ready to say good-bye to her. He had so many questions to ask her and yet, he didn't get to ask a single one. It was as if she was ripped away from him once again and it was a pain like no other. He stubbornly wiped away a few stray tears as a voice behind him caused his breath to catch in his throat.

"Hello, Sam."

Sam turned around, stunned. "Jess?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: Thanks again for the wonderful reviews! I love getting them...they put a pep in my step! (That was cheesy, I know...)**

**I have figured out that I am going to try to update this once a week, unless my life gets in the way, so keep checking in with me.**

**Enjoy and let me know what you think!**

"What's the matter, Sam? You look as if you've seen a ghost."

Sam blinked, just knowing his eyes were deceiving him. First his mom and now Jess? Yes, his eyes, not to mention his mind, were definitely playing games with him now—very cruel games, indeed.

She was standing in front of him, the picture of beauty. She was still the same as he remembered, only somehow she was even more radiant, which he didn't think was possible. In a long flowing white gown with her long blonde hair blowing the breeze, she was the epitome of his dreams, a beautiful vision he thought he lost that fateful night a year ago.

"Jess?"

Jess smiled. "Is that all you can say?"

"But how? I mean, why are you here?"

"Your mom told you'd have two other guides. I signed up for the second leg of the journey. As for the why, I think you know why."

Sam shook his head. "I don't think I do. Why would you help me? Why would you want to after I got you killed?"

Jess walked closer to Sam until she was mere inches from him. She gently caressed his cheek with her thumb. "Sam, you didn't get me killed."

"It was my fault, Jess. I didn't tell you who I really was, what I really do."

"I understand why you didn't, Sam. You didn't tell me because you wanted to protect me."

"A bang up job I did of that," he grumbled. "I wanted to protect you more than anything. But I didn't and you died because of it."

"I won't lie to you, Sam—it sucked to die like that. I wasn't ready to die. There was so much I wanted to do with you. But that's life—you take what it gives you and you go from there."

"But if I'd just told you the truth—"

"About what? The nightmares? The visions?"

Sam stiffened. "How did you know about that?"

Jess shrugged, smiling. "You learn a lot of things when you get to Heaven. Some things you wanted to know and other things you didn't."

"You shouldn't have found out like that. I should have been the one to tell you. Besides, do you honestly think you would have believed me if I told you that? That you wouldn't have taken off running as soon as the words were out of my mouth?"

"Maybe so, Sam, but we'll never know. What's done is done and there is nothing we can do to change that. We have to move on…_you _have to move on."

"You make it sound so simple, but I can't do that. It's so hard for me to let go and move on without you."

"Is it the guilt? Sam, it will eat at your soul every day if you let it. It will consume you until there is nothing left of you but a shell. You can't let it do that to you. I won't watch it do that to you."

"I'm so sorry, Jess…"

"Sam, I forgave you a long time ago. You need to do the same for yourself." She smiled softly at him. "I'm okay, really. I just wish you could believe me."

Sam nodded, feeling a single tear roll down his cheek. Jess was right about the guilt—it was something he carried with him every day for a year now. It continued to eat at him every day, though he had gotten better at concealing it from Dean. But he couldn't help it—in his mind, it was because of him that Jess, the love of his life, was brutally murdered—even the Yellow Eyed Demon pointed out that fact to him. Jess was in the way therefore she had to be eliminated.

But now, here was Jess telling him she never held him responsible for what happened to her, she had forgiven him. It was a feeling of relief for him, yet he knew he would never completely escape the guilt.

Sam finally smiled. It was a sad smile, but a smile, nonetheless. "I've missed you so much, Jess. You have no idea how much," he said cupping her face in his hands.

Jess smiled, a tear trailing down her face. "I've missed you too, Sam."

Bending down, Sam kissed her tender and lovingly. _God, how I've missed this feeling._ It was a feeling as if everything was okay in the world and he had nothing to worry about or fear—no demons, no freaky visions, no nightmares. He wanted those feelings back—the love and touch of a woman.

Breaking away, Sam smiled at Jess—a genuine smile and she returned it.

"Are you ready, Sam?"

Sam sighed. He should have known this moment wouldn't last forever. "What are you going to show me?"

"We'll focus on you and Dean since the night he picked you up from Stanford. It's my job to show how you and your brother have been beneficial to each other since that night. After that, I'll show you how Dean has been since John died."

_Dean had never seen his baby brother like this and it hurt him more than the older hunter cared to admit. Sam was broken, completely and utterly broken, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it, to fix him. He wanted so badly to take away Sam's pain, to assure the kid everything was going to be okay, but he couldn't because Dean refused to fill his kid brother with a false sense of hope. That only fueled Dean's hurt with anger._

_It had only been two days since Dean pulled Sam away from his burning apartment. Two days since Sam watched Jess, the love of his life, burn to death in the very same manner their mother had died twenty-two years prior. Sam barely said a word since then and it freaked Dean out. Sam was always one with something to say, but now it was taking Dean all he had to get Sam to say one word and quite frankly, he was getting tired of it._

_He knew Sam was mourning. Hell, the kid deserved to mourn. No one deserved to watch their loved one die, especially knowing there was nothing they could do to help them. And though Sam hadn't said anything to him, Dean knew what was going through his brother's head—a million what-ifs. What if he had gotten there sooner? What if he never left in the first place? What if Jess never gotten involved with him in the first place? They were the same questions Dean would be asking himself over and over if he was in Sam's position._

_Tossing a look in Sam's direction, Dean saw Sam was sitting on the edge of his bed, still wearing his suit and tie, and staring down at his hands. He'd been doing that ever since they returned from Jess's funeral over an hour ago. His posture reminded Dean of an ancient Greek statue, teetering on the edge of a pedestal._

"_Hey, you okay?" Dean felt a twinge of guilt as the kid nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of his voice._

_Sam barely glanced up at Dean. "I'm fine, Dean."_

"_Like hell you are."_

"_What do you want me to say?"_

"_Say you're pissed, upset, shitty—hell, I don't know! But don't sit there and lie to me by telling me you're fine."_

"_Fine, I'm all of the above." Sam looked over at his brother, eyes bloodshot. "Happy now?"_

_Dean sighed, got off his bed, and planted himself firmly on Sam's bed next to him. He wanted Sam to talk to him, not fight with him. But talking never came easy to Dean Winchester—he never was one to talk about his feelings, it never helped him. He always found beating the crap out of some demon, monster, or inanimate object helped him deal with his emotions. But not Sam—no, Sam required a little more help. No way was pounding away at something going to help his grief. He needed to talk and by God, Dean was going to sit there and talk to him even if it killed him._

"_Look, Sam, I know you're hurting…"_

"_Do you?" Hazel eyes flashed angrily at Dean. "What gave it away Dean? Was it the fact I haven't been talking? Was it the damn tears I can't seem to get a control of? Or, hell, was it the fact I just watched a complete stranger lower my girlfriend's body six feet into the ground?"_

_Dean felt a wave of anger wash over him. Okay, Sammy deserved to lash out at something. It still didn't give him the right to be a complete ass about it._

"_Sam, you're pissed and you deserve to be. But I'm trying to help you out here, man."_

"_How can you help me, Dean? Can you bring Jess back to me? Can you give me back the last three days of my life?" Sam didn't wait for an answer. "Well, can you Dean?"_

_Dean shook his head. "You know I can't do that, Sammy."_

"_Then how the hell can you possibly help me?" Sam stared hard at him and Dean could see it was taking everything his baby brother had not to break down again._

"_Sam, I wish to God I could give those things back to you. I wish I never would have dragged you back into this life. I wish you and Jess could have had a long life together with a bunch of little rugrats. I wish you could get your law degree so I could have someone to bail my ass out at the drop of a hat."_

_Sam studied Dean, thoughtfully._

"_I wish I could give you that and so much more. I wish I could take away all of your pain so you never have to deal with it again. I wish we could have a normal family again and not have to deal with monsters, demons, and other baddies that go bump in the night. I wish I could make this world safe for you. I want that more than anything, Sammy."_

"_Dean…"_

_Dean shook his head. "Now look what you've made me do. I'm turning into a girl here."_

_Sam chuckled softly._

"_Seriously, dude, you should be pissed and I'm not going to stop you if you feel the need to rage all of a sudden. I'm not going to sit here and pretend I know what you're going through. It wouldn't be fair to you or me."_

"_But with Mom—"_

"_I was a kid, Sam. I barely remember any of it. Besides, I still had you and Dad."_

"_I just…I don't know, Dean. I feel like I'm about to break at any given moment and that scares the hell out of me. I want to be angry but at the same time, I can't do that to Jess's memory. I want to sit here and do nothing but cry, but that's not going to do me any good either."_

_Dean nodded, letting his brother talk._

"_But most of all, Dean—and this is the part that scares the hell out of me—I just want the ground to swallow me whole. I want to give up on it all. Without Jess, I have nothing left so I ask myself why I should go on."_

_Dean felt as if he'd been punched in the gut. What was Sam talking about? Dean knew grief affected people in different ways. Hell, their dad's grief turned into an obsession of finding the thing that killed their mom. A tiny voice in Dean's head told him he didn't want Sam to become like their father, to lose focus of everything but vengeance. But Dean also didn't want his brother to give up and he wasn't about to let him._

"_Sam, you have me," Dean said softly, but firmly. "You've always had me. I know we haven't been there for each other much over the past two years, but I have always been here. So, don't you sit there and tell me you have nothing left."_

_Sam looked up at Dean with a pained expression, but Dean was glad he struck a nerve. "I'm sorry, Dean…"_

"_I don't want your apology, Sam. I want you to hold on, fight with me." Dean's eyes stayed focused on Sam's. "Now, I promise you we'll find Jessica's killer. But to do that, we have to find Dad. I wasn't lying to you the other day, Sammy, when I told you I can't do this alone. I need you to help me. I want you to help me."_

_Sam nodded wiping away a tear from his eye. "I want to help, Dean, I do. But I also need to find what killed Jess. It's going to take a few days before I can hit the road with you; I'm just not ready yet."_

"_Take as long as you need, Sam. Who knows? We may find a clue around here. You just tell me when you're ready."_

_Sam nodded, smiling faintly at his brother. "Thanks, Dean."_

"_You're welcome." He patted Sam's leg and stood up, smiling. "Now, what do you say we grab some grub? After all, Mr. Bob Freeman's paying for it."_

"You see, Sam. Dean needs you as much as you need him," Jess said, rubbing his arm soothingly.

"He really helped me after I lost you. If I didn't have him, I really don't think I would have made it."

"You helped him, too, Sam. Having you with him, you filled a void he'd been carrying around for two years. When you left for college, it was as if you took a piece of him with you. He was happy for you—he wanted you to experience a life outside of hunting, to have a chance at a normal life."

"He never told me that."

"And he wasn't going to. Your brother would never purposely do anything to destroy your happiness, Sam. He cares about you too much to do that."

"He's stubborn."

Jess smiled. "He's a brother. He never wanted a life of hunting for you. But when John went missing, he didn't have anyone else to turn to. He needed you; you helped him cope with this. I really don't think Dean could have done it without you."

"Yes, he could."

"Do you really think that?"

"Dean can do anything. He's…Dean."

Jess chuckled. "A brother's love. You never can find fault in your brother."

"There's nothing—"

"I'm not saying there's anything wrong with that, Sam. Just the opposite. The love you and your brother have for each other is what helps you, guides you. It's why you've been able to survive for as long as you have."

Sam nodded, understanding. He didn't know if it was the same for Dean, but the only reason Sam kept going was because of Dean, because he knew there was someone to fight for. More than anything, he wanted Dean to have a chance in the world, to experience something other than a hunter's life. That was why Sam fought so hard everyday—the only reason.

Jess took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Come on, I have something else to show you."


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: I know I said I would update once a week, but I got this written out this weekend and I couldn't wait until friday to post it. And besides, I'm a wonderful person...lol!**

**Just to let you know, this is a Dean-centric chapter and as you read along you will see why.**

**As always, I ask that you let me know what you think!**

Dean was getting stir-crazy.

Not that he didn't enjoy Alicia's company. It felt good to have someone to talk to other than himself. It was nice to open up to someone else, someone he felt comfortable with. Besides, she wasn't bad to look at, either. With his luck Dean could have ended up spending all of this "alone time" with some nurse who could have doubled as a body builder—he'd had his fair share of those on his numerous trips to the hospital.

He got up from the small table and stretched his lean body until he heard several satisfying pops. He then walked over to Sam's bed and peered down at his sleeping brother. There still wasn't any change with him, but he wasn't getting any worse either. Dr. Stewart assured him, along with Alicia, Sam's vitals were good, improving even. While that information comforted Dean, he wished to hell Sam would wake up.

Plopping down on the chair next to Sam's bed, Dean let out a long weary sigh. Alicia had left ten minutes ago in search of some lunch that wasn't from the cafeteria, for which Dean was entirely grateful. He wasn't really sure where she would find it since he was pretty sure most, if not all, the restaurants in town were closed for Christmas. But he wasn't about to argue with the nurse—she told him she would find some food and he was confident she would.

Taking Sam's hand, Dean lay his head down on the bed. It wasn't the most comfortable position and he knew his body would protest, but at the moment he didn't care. He just needed to be near Sam, needed for Sam to know he was there. His head barely made contact before he felt his eyes close.

"Hello, Dean."

Dean shot up from the bed, hand going for his gun he kept tucked under his shirt. He stopped just short of pulling it out when he saw who was in the room. _No friggin' way…_

"Mom?" he managed to choke out.

Mary smiled at her oldest and looked down where his hand was. "You know you shouldn't have a gun in here, Dean."

Dean lowered his hand and shrugged sheepishly. "You never know when you might need one."

Mary chuckled. "How are you, Dean?"

Dean ignored the question. "Not that I'm not happy to see you, Mom, but what are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see how you were doing."

Dean looked down at his baby brother. "I want Sammy to wake up."

Mary moved to the other side of the bed and brushed the hair off of Sam's forehead. She smiled lovingly and looked up at Dean. "He'll wake up soon."

"How do you know that?"

"Mother's intuition."

Dean glanced at her, not buying her response. There was a reason his mother was standing before him, a reason why she showed up all of a sudden. He was happy to see her, sure, but he learned long ago not to take things with a grain of salt.

Mary must have sensed his uneasiness because she gave him an understanding nod. "Your brother is okay, Dean. I'm here to help him."

"You're going to work some mojo on him and make him wake up?"

"No, I'm afraid I can't do that. Sam is trying to find his way. He's troubled right now. His heart and his mind are in two different places, and he's not sure what he wants. He's looking for answers."

Dean couldn't believe what he was hearing. He walked over to the window and glanced down at the scene below. There was virtually no traffic and snow still blanketed everything. Only a few pedestrians hurrying to their destinations. What did Sam need answers to? Why? What the hell was going on here?

"What do you mean Sam's trying to find his way?" Dean asked, keeping his back turned towards Mary.

"He's confused, Dean. About you, about everything."

"What?" Dean whirled around to face her. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Dean saw Mary's eyes narrow just a bit and he immediately felt guilty for snapping at her He didn't mean to do that, he was just so frustrated. When he became frustrated, he snapped at anyone who happened to be near him.

"It stems from the fight the two of you had in the motel room."

"That stupid thing?"

"Sam didn't think it was stupid. It affected him, got him thinking."

"About what?"

"Several things. The main one being if you would be better off without him."

"What?" Dean sent a glare in Sam's direction. "Why would he think that?"

"What did you tell him at the motel, Dean?"

"He said I should do the next hunt alone and I agreed with him…" His voice trailed off.

Mary nodded.

Anger flashed in Dean's eyes. _Sammy was definitely going to pay for this one. _"I didn't mean that," he said, defensively. "He knows half the crap I say I don't really mean. Why would he think different this time?"

"He's been thinking it for a while, Dean. Your argument just pushed it to the surface."

Dean rubbed a hand through his hair, shocked. _Why would Sam be thinking this shit up? Exactly how long had he been thinking it? Did he honestly think I would be better off without him?_

"How long?"

"I'm not sure."

Dean walked back over to the chair beside Sam's bed and fell down into him. "Why in the world would he think something like that?"

"From what he told me, he thinks it will protect you, keep you safe. He's tired of seeing you get hurt, Dean, and he thinks it's because of him. He feels if you were by yourself you wouldn't get hurt as much."

"You talked to him?"

"I did."

"When? Now?"

"A little while ago. I showed him the first step."

"The first step of what?"

"His journey—Sam is on a journey. We're showing him the past, present, and future, how the two of you have needed each other. We're also showing him what it would be like if you didn't have him."

"That can't be good," Dean commented.

"Jess is now showing him the present. When she's finished someone else will come along and show Sam the future."

"Is he okay?" Dean asked softly.

"He is, Dean."

Dean nodded and looked at Sam. He looked so peaceful and so at ease, it was hard for Dean to picture a battle waging in the kid's mind. Dean wanted to shake him and tell Sam what a stupid ass he was being.

"I do need him."

"I know you do, Dean—we both do." Mary walked behind him and placed her hands on his shoulders. "You and your brother—together you make a whole. There can't be one without the other. What you've done for him, raising him, it's more than a mother could ask for. Sam has been blessed in so many ways for having you there in his life, he knows that."

"He's a blessing to me, too. He's the only thing that keeps me going, helped me in so many ways. I just wish he knew that."

"He does, Dean. Deep down, he knows. But he needs to see for himself, to know what you and I know to be the truth."

"So, how long is this thing supposed to take?"

"Another few hours."

"And he'll stay asleep the entire time? He won't get hurt?"

"He'll be safe, Dean."

"What happens when he gets finished? He'll wake up?"

"He'll have a choice to make: either he'll continue with you or he won't."

"If he doesn't, does that mean he'll die?" Dean asked hesitantly.

Mary nodded sadly. "I know that's not what you want to hear, Dean. You just have to have faith in his choice."

"I never was good in that department."

Mary smiled. "Maybe it's time you started."

"Maybe…"

"I want to show you something."

"What is it?"

"Do you remember when Sammy went off to school?"

"How could I forget?" It had been the hardest moment of Dean's life, watching his baby brother get on that bus and drive away from him. That night, all those years ago, Dean felt as if a piece of his heart left with Sam. It took everything in his power not to stop that bus and pull Sam off of it.

"It wasn't easy for him either, Dean. He never wanted to leave you, make you face the world alone. You don't know how close he came from turning around and running right back to you."

"I would have kicked his ass if he did that."

"I want you to close your eyes, Dean."

Dean was going to argue, but decided to do what his mother said. When he opened them again, he saw he was sitting on a Greyhound bus, across the aisle from his baby brother. _Okay, this definitely qualifies as "out there…"_

_Sam was hurting, feeling as if someone had hit him with a Mac truck. It was an ache deep in his heart and he knew what it was—Dean. His big brother was missing from his life, the only person he'd been able to depend on for the last eighteen years of his life._

_He let out a sad sigh as he watched the Colorado landscape pass him by. It was late summer and the July sunset cast a shimmery glow through the dense forest surrounding the long stretch of highway, He supposed to anyone else it would look peaceful, but to him, it was a stark reminder of what he was leaving behind._

_That wasn't saying Sam didn't feel good about his decision. He needed to get away from the life of a hunter. He needed to see what else the world had to offer, besides monsters and ghosts. He needed to be away from Dean, not to live under the security blanket that was his older brother._

_Sam didn't miss the hurt expression on Dean's face when he told him he wanted to go to Stanford, even though Dean covered it just as quickly as it appeared. He told Sam he was happy for him and he supported his decision. While Sam knew his brother meant every word he said, he also knew there was a hidden meaning in the words_—Don't leave, Sam. I'm not ready to say goodbye to you yet…

"_You okay, kid?"_

_Sam glanced at the seat beside him to see an African American man with graying hair watching him thoughtfully. He appeared to be in his late fifties or early sixties and his eyes were kind and wizened. _

_Sam nodded. "I'm fine."_

_The old man chuckled. "Kid, don't try to fool an old man. I can clearly see something is bothering you." He held out his hand. "The name's Henry."_

_Sam took the hand and shook it firmly. "Sam."_

"_That's a good name," Henry said, nodding. "My oldest boy was named Sam."_

"_Was?"_

_Henry nodded again. "Passed away a year ago."_

"_I'm sorry to hear that."_

"_It's okay. My Sammy is in a better place. The good Lord can keep watch over him now."_

_Sam frowned and looked out the window once more._

"_Don't look so glum now, boy," Henry said._

"_Sorry. I've kind of had a bad day."_

"_You want to tell me about it?"_

_Sam shook his head. "I wouldn't want to trouble you. I'm sure you don't want to spend your bus ride talking to some kid."_

"_Nonsense, it's no trouble at all." Henry smiled at him. "How about we start with something easy? Where are you headed?"_

"_California."_

"_What's in California?"_

"_School—Stanford University."_

"_Oh, I'm sitting next to a smart boy."_

_Sam smiled bashfully. "I'm not so sure about that."_

"_Don't sell yourself short, Sam. Stanford's one of the top colleges in the country."_

"_Yeah…"_

"_Well, you're going to a good school, so what's bothering you?"_

_Sam hesitated. Did he really want to tell this complete stranger? He was extremely cautious when it came to talking to strangers. But Henry seemed willing to listen and Sam had to admit it felt good to talk._

"_I had a bad fight with my dad. He didn't want me to leave."_

"_He's not happy for you?"_

"_I would like to think he was, but I'm just not sure."_

"_Did you ask?"_

_Sam chuckled. "You can't ask my dad anything like that. He doesn't want our family to split up and I refused to listen. It was time to do something for myself and not what he had planned for me."_

"_It's always hard to go against your parents' wishes."_

"_Yeah, but really, that's not what bothers me. I can take my dad being angry at me, he always is. It's my brother."_

"_You didn't want to leave _him_," Henry answered for him._

"_Dean's my older brother, he's always looked out for me. And for the first time in my life, I won't have him with me and that scares me so much. Even now, I'm wanting the bus to turn around so I can go back to him."_

_Henry nodded, understanding. "That's a natural feeling, Sam. I remember when I enlisted in the army and I stepped on that bus. I wanted nothing more than to go back home and work in my daddy's auto shop."_

"_But you didn't?"_

"_I didn't. I stuck with the army and I served in the Vietnam War. I don't regret my decision, even to this day."_

_Sam nodded._

"_Your brother will be okay, Sam. You will, too—you'll see. It's just going to take you some time. You'll always want your brother to be with you." Henry looked down and spotted the cell phone sitting in Sam's lap. "Besides, your brother is just a phone call away."_

_Sam picked up the phone and smiled. "Thanks, Henry."_

"_No problem at all, my boy." Henry smiled and leaning his head back against the seat, closed his eyes._

_Sam tabbed through the phonebook in his cell phone until he came to Dean's number. Hesitating for a brief second, he hit the CALL button and listened to it ring several times before Dean's voice mail clicked on. _

"_This is Dean…leave me a message. If this is Sam, I just want you to know…I'm really proud of you, kid. "_

_Sam smiled, eyes watering. "Hey, Dean, it's me. Uh, I just wanted you to know I'm okay. And thanks…thanks for everything, Dean. I'll call you later…"_

"What do you think?" Mary asked, watching Dean.

Dean looked around to see he was once again seated beside Sam's hospital bed. Mary stared at him expectantly and Dean honestly didn't know what to tell her. He just got finished watching something that happened years ago, for God's sakes. How in the hell was that possible? And was this what Sam was experiencing right now? How _had _the kid not woken up screaming by now?

"That was…different," Dean offered, not coming up with a better response.

Mary smiled. "It takes a while to get used to that."

"Yeah, here's hoping it doesn't happen again." Dean rubbed a hand over his face feeling the stubble; he hadn't shaved since yesterday morning. He then looked at Sam. "So, that—what I saw—it was real?"

"As real as you sitting in this hospital room right now."

Dean chuckled. "That's…oddly comforting."

"I wanted you to see, Dean. To see that leaving you wasn't easy for Sammy. He was so scared when he got on that bus and he didn't know if he was making the wrong choice by leaving you."

"I think it was the best thing for him."

"I do, too. Hearing you tell him you were proud of him gave him all the courage he needed. He had your approval, so he knew he was doing the right thing."

"He needed for someone to say they were proud of him. Dad was so blinded by his obsession, he couldn't even let Sammy know he did good."

"You know how Sam and John were—there couldn't have been two more stubborn men in the world. Knowing how distant the two of them were, I really don't think it would have meant much to Sam if it came from your father. It meant so much more from you, Dean."

Dean nodded. Sam and John were at constant odds with each other. They never could work out their problems and form a relationship. Sam always turned to Dean for guidance and approval and Dean was always there to give it to him. Thinking back, Dean wouldn't have it any other way.

Mary knelt in front of Dean and took his hand in hers. "Dean, I want you to know that I am so proud of you, for everything you've done. It's been an honor to see the life you've made for Sam and yourself. I haven't ever had to worry about the two of you because you were there to take care of everything, Dean."

"I had to, Mom. I couldn't let Sammy face the world by himself. There are too many things out there I had to protect him from."

"I know, Dean. You gave your brother a chance at a good life and in turn, he has given you the same. Your love for each other has been the deciding factor in everything—whether you live or whether you die. Love is what keeps you strong, Dean. Love is your guide."

Dean felt tears stinging his eyes but he quickly brushed them away. His luck, Sam would wake up right then and call him out for behaving like a girl. No way was he going to let his kid brother have that pleasure. "You're going sappy on me, Mom."

Mary smiled. "Take care, Dean. You and Sammy—you keep looking out for each other, be there for the other."

"We will, Mom."

"I love you so much, Dean, and Sam. Don't you ever forget that."

"I won't."

Mary kissed him on the forehead, smiling at the lone tear that managed to find its way down Dean's cheek. She wiped it away and eased his head down onto the bed. "Rest now, my son. Everything will be okay…you'll see."

Dean felt his eyes getting heavy, but he fought against it long enough to say one last thing to Mary.

"I love you, Mom."

**Okay, the flashback above was for Dean. I figured I would change it up a bit. In the next chapter, we will get back to Sam and he will see how Dean would now be without him.**

**Update in a few days...**


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: Thanks for the awesome reviews, guys! I had a talk with the Easter Bunny and he told me I should give you another update in you Easter baskets, so here we go!**

**I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think!!**

Sam saw a familiar scene; not in the way that he'd been there before, but a "seen one, you've seen them all" kind of deal. He and Jess were standing in the middle of the parking lot of the Majestic Court Motel. Looking around, Sam figured the run-down motel didn't see much business, with its cracked pavement, water stained doors, tall weeds surrounding the perimeter, and the blinking VACANCY sign missing the C-A-N. The motel had certainly seen better days.

"Where are we?" Sam asked.

"Just outside of Duluth, Minnesota."

Sam nodded and continued to look around. Finally, about ten yards away, he spotted the Impala. Rushing towards it, he saw that is was missing something—there was no love and tender care put into the classic. The car was covered in numerous rust spots, had a broken passenger back window that was taped shut with a plastic bag, and the interior was ripped in several places. The car had certainly lost its beauty. It was hard for Sam to think of this as his brother's car—there is no way in the world Dean would let his car look like this.

"Are we at the right place?"

Jess nodded. "We are."

"But how? Dean—he would never let the car get this bad. He's ready to kick my ass if I leave as much as a fingerprint on it."

"Let's go inside, Sam. You'll have your answer in there."

Still looking at the car, Sam followed Jess to the door of Room 15. The door would hardly budge and he had to use all of his weight in order to push through it. He immediately wished he hadn't.

To say the room was a mess would be doing it a huge favor. Empty pizza boxes and discarded foil wrappers littered the floor and empty beer bottles took residence on every inch of available tabletops. Drifting his eyes to the side of the bed, Sam saw a few empty bottles of Jack and glancing at the nightstand, he spotted several prescription bottles. The TV was blaring and Sam turned his head to see it was basic cable porn. The door to the bathroom opened and Dean, dressed in a faded pair of jeans, a grimy white tee, with mussed hair, emerged and collapsed onto the bed.

"What the hell?" Sam's horrified gaze stayed on his brother.

"It's been a few months since John died, Sam. Dean hasn't taken it well since he had just gotten John back a few months before his passing. He doesn't have anyone else left now, so he doesn't care."

"So, he just stays here all day?"

"He goes on a few hunts, usually the most dangerous ones. He takes more chances with himself, doesn't care if he gets hurt. He's been hurt so many times, he depends on the alcohol and pain pills to chase away the pain—both physically and mentally."

"Dean doesn't like to take pills. It takes everything I have to force him to take an ibuprofen."

"He's not your Dean, Sam. He doesn't have anyone to look out for so he doesn't care how he goes into battles. It dulls the pain for him so he doesn't have to face the world with a clear mind. He doesn't have it in him anymore."

Sam shook his head not wanting to believe. Dean's childhood had been bad enough, but this? Not even in his nightmares, could Sam place his brother in this situation. His Dean was strong and courageous. But this Dean was a different person entirely—he didn't know this Dean, didn't _want _to know this Dean.

A sudden knock at the door startled Sam.

_Dean groaned as he dug his face deeper into the cheap motel pillow. _Maybe if I don't answer, they'll go away…_Happy with that thought, Dean closed his eyes but the knock grew more persistent and louder._

"_Son of a bitch," he griped, a headache now forming in his foggy brain._

"_Dean, open up, boy! I know you're in there," a booming male voice said._

_Dean groaned louder. He didn't need this today, didn't need any of his shit. He just wanted everyone to leave him alone, but they seemed to have a hard time grasping that idea._

_Once again the knock sounded and Dean practically threw himself off the bed in a fit of anger. He stomped through the mess and jerked the door open. The sudden brightness caught by surprise, causing him to squint. _When the hell did the sun come out?

"_Didn't you hear me knocking?"_

"_I was hoping you would just go away." Dean leaned against the doorframe._

_Bobby let out an annoyed sigh. "I don't give up that easily. Besides, I knew you were in here. Hell, I could hear that porn you got going on in there a block away."_

"_I was sleeping."_

_Bobby pushed past Dean and entered the room. Dean rolled his eyes and shut the door behind them. _Oh yeah, this was going to be good…

"_You look like shit, Dean, not to mention this room."  
_

"_What are you doing here, Bobby?" He walked over to the mini-fridge and pulled out a beer, not offering Bobby one. He popped the top and took a long swig before looking over at the older hunter._

"_I came to see about you."_

"_What about me?"_

"_You refused to answer your damn phone. I thought something might have happened to you."_

_Dean flashed Bobby a sardonic smile. "As you can see, I'm still among the living." He crossed over to the nightstand and grabbed one of the pill bottles without looking at the label. Dropping a couple in his hand, he tossed them back and chased them down with a healthy swig of beer._

"_Barely," Bobby commented, watching his every move._

"_What the hell is that supposed to mean?"_

"_You're hardly even standing, boy. Look at this place—it's a wonder you haven't caught an infection from all the crap rotting in here." Bobby walked over to the nightstand and picked up a few of the bottles. "Lortab…Vicodin…Percocet. Those are some hard hitters you're dealing with, Dean, not to mention the fact you're taking them with alcohol."_

"_What are you, my keeper?"_

"_Someone needs to be."_

"_Yeah, well I don't remember asking _you_." Dean took a final swig of the beer and tossed the bottle on the floor._

_He really had no idea why Bobby bothered to show up. After all, Dean had only met the hunter/junk yard owner right before John died even though his dad said he'd known him since before Dean was born,__ so who was he to judge? As far as Dean was concerned, he had no use for Bobby and didn't intend to. He wished the older man would take the hint and leave him the hell alone._

"_Look at you, Dean. You're falling apart and you refuse to let anyone help you."_

"_Because I don't need any help."_

"_Yeah, I can clearly see you have things under control."_

"_That's right, I do. So why don't you get the hell out of here."_

_Bobby refused to budge. "You think your daddy would want you to live like this?"_

_Dean felt red-hot anger coursing through him as he leapt off the bed and landed a solid right hook against Bobby's jaw. Bobby barely flinched, bringing his own fist up to land a punch on Dean's jaw. In his inebriated state, Dean didn't take the punch well and fell to the floor against the nightstand, causing beer and pill bottles to rain down on him._

_He brought up a hand to his lip, feeling warm blood. He wiped it away stubbornly and rose to his feet, glaring at Bobby. "You don't know a damn thing about my dad," he growled._

_Bobby ignored him as he grabbed a washcloth and filled it up with ice from the small ice bucket. He wadded it up and held it out to Dean. Dean kept his glare on Bobby then moved it to the washcloth. Bobby thrust it forward and the young hunter grabbed it angrily and held it to his lip._

"_I know a lot more about your daddy than you do."_

"_That isn't my fault."  
_

"_I never said it was."_

_Dean watched the older man with narrowed eyes as he tended to his lip. Bobby grabbed one of the linoleum chairs and brought it over to Dean's bed. Sitting down, he let out a long sigh. _

"_Dean, I'm not here to be your daddy or your best friend. I'm here as a favor to John. He told me if anything happened to him, he wanted me to look out for you."_

"_When did he tell you that?" Dean asked, feeling some of his anger ebbing away._

"_After you were taken from him when you were a kid, he fought tooth and nail to get you back, did everything in his power. He worried you wouldn't be safe. After he lost your mama and Sammy, he wanted to do everything not to lose you."_

"_But he did," Dean said._

_Bobby shook his head. "Your daddy always watched out for you. After every hunt, he would come back to Kansas to check on you, make sure you were safe and taken care of. He did that until about a few years ago, when he was getting closer to the demon. He thought you would be safer if he didn't come near you again. He didn't want the demon to take any more away from him, he refused to lose you to him."_

"_And the damn demon got him instead."_

"_It did," Bobby nodded. "Before that, I promised John I would look out for you, Dean, and I don't break promises."_

"_I'm too messed up, Bobby. I don't want to pull you down with me."_

"_Don't worry about me."_

"_I appreciate what you're doing, Bobby, I do, but I can't deal with it, with everything. It's just too painful to go on everyday, knowing what I've lost—I lost my mom, barely even got the chance to know my baby brother, and then my dad was ripped away from me as soon as I found him again. If anyone gets close to me, Bobby, they'll go away, too. I can't do that again."_

"_So you depend on Jose and Jack to make you feel better?"_

"_It kills the pain."_

"_It will kill _you_, Dean. If you're so intent on dying, don't you want it to be out there, doing something?"_

"_Like what?"_

"_Hunt the son of a bitch that killed your family. Get out there and hunt the things that are responsible for the death and destruction in the world. Get out there and save some lives."_

"_I have been doing that."_

"_Not very well. You pick and choose what you do now, mostly opting for the most dangerous. You go in half-assed and you come out crawling. You have Winchester blood in you, for God's sakes—prove it."_

_Dean got up from the bed and grabbed another beer out of the fridge. Bobby watched him and shrugged. "The way I figure it, you have two choices—you can sit in here and slowly waste away, or you can get out there and do something."_

_Bobby stood up, but didn't get an answer from Dean. He clapped him on the back and silently made his way out of the room. Dean took a swig of the beer, contemplating what Bobby said to him._

_It was so much easier to turn to the alcohol and medication—they were a quick fix remedy, but when he thought about it, they only dulled the pain for a few hours and then he was hurting again. But he could do what Bobby said—be out there, doing something about it. Seek out revenge and hunt the bastard that destroyed his family, his life._

_Dean took a deep breath, trying to quell the battle going on in his head. He didn't like to be conflicted. Looking at the bottle in his hand, he felt anger rushing through him once more. Letting out a roaring yell, he flung the bottle against the wall, watching with mild satisfaction as it shattered into hundreds of little brown pieces._

"What do you think?" Jess asked. They were now standing in the parking lot of the motel.

"I'm not sure what to make of it."

"That's understandable, Sam. Where Dean is now, he's going down a dark path and he's not sure where to turn. If you were with him, his decision would be so much easier, he'd know what to do. He would fight for his life, your life. He wouldn't give up as easily as he has."

"Why does everything seem to be my fault? 'If I was there, Dean would do this. If I was there, this never would have happened to Dean'."

"No one's trying to put the weight of the world on your shoulders, Sam. You do a good enough job of that on your own."

Sam sighed. How could he not carry that weigh around with him? Everywhere he turned, someone else was depending on him and it was almost all he could take. He carried the weight of the Yellow-Eyed Demon with him everywhere he went knowing because of him and his stupid "gift," he was partly responsible for the damn thing destroying his family. But most of the weight he carried involved Dean—what if he let his brother down? What if he couldn't get to him in time? What if Dean died because of something he did?

"What happens to Dean now?"

"He listens to Bobby. He goes in search of the demon and it becomes an obsession for him. He becomes consumed in his search and killing any other creature that brings about death."

"He becomes my dad."

"Even more so," Jess answered. "Dean can't see past his vengeance, so he throws all he has into tracking the demon down."

"Does he find him?"

"I can't spoil the big finish for you."

"Let me guess—that's for my future guide to show me?"

"You got it."

"So, I guess you're through with me," Sam said softly.

Jess smiled sadly. "I'm sorry."

Sam nodded but more than anything he didn't want to watch her go. Though he knew it wasn't real, he'd just gotten her back and he couldn't stand to watch her walk away from him. She was supposed to do that; she was supposed to stay here with him. Sam felt as if his heart was breaking all over again, like it had done the night he watched her die.

"I know this is hard, Sam."

Sam looked at her, tears in his eyes. "It wasn't supposed to be hard, Jess. Some part of me was telling me I could watch you leave me again, but I can't. I can't stand to watch you walk away from me. I want more time with you."

Jess pressed her hand to the side of his face. "I know you do, Sam, and I wish I didn't have to leave. But this is the way it has to be, you know this."

Sam swallowed hard. "I know."

Jess smiled, a solitary tear streaming down her face. "Don't worry, Sam. We'll meet again some day and we can be together, forever. You just have to know that I'm watching over you…always."

Sam nodded and leaned down to kiss her softly. "I know you are. I've always known that."

"Be strong, Sam. Let love guide your heart. It will always lead you where you need to go." She kissed him one more time and vanished before he could say anymore.

Sam stood in the parking lot, letting the tears come down.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: Hey guys! Sorry for the lull, but has been having a lot of problems and for some reason, they didn't want to let me post. Seriously guys, an exorcism needs to be done on this site.**

**Anyway, I thank you for all of your reviews and I give you a new chapter...it's a little longer than my last chapter, but I figured I owed that much to you!**

**Let me know what you think!**

A delightful mixture of smells woke Dean from his peaceful slumber. He groggily raised his head and saw Alicia taking a couple of large Styrofoam food packages out of a brown paper bag. She smiled at him when she saw he was watching her.

"I didn't mean to wake you," Alicia apologized.

"No, it's okay," Dean said as he rubbed his eyes.

"You looked like you were sleeping peacefully."

"I actually was," Dean admitted slightly surprised by that fact. He supposed that's what happened when you had your mother right beside you, telling you everything would be okay. He felt like he was four years old again, his mom soothing him with the sound of her voice and tucking him gently into bed. It actually made his heart ache, knowing what he missed growing up without a mother, but then again he knew he was lucky. At least he'd gotten four good years with Mary; Sam only had six months with her and it was six months he would never remember.

"You don't do that very often?" Alicia asked, pulling out a couple of drinks out of a small brown paper bag.

"Not really, not with what we do."

Alicia nodded and Dean was happy she didn't question it any further. "You hungry?"

"Starved."

"Well, help yourself. I didn't know what you liked, so I thought I would introduce you to a Southern Christmas dinner—turkey, dressing, sweet potatoes, green beans, and rolls."

Dean smiled as he walked over to the small table and took a seat. His stomach growled its approval and he quickly dug into the dressing. The instant the cornbread mixture hit his tongue, Dean thought he's died and gone to heaven. It had been a long time since the older hunter had a decent home-cooked meal and he had to admit it was one the best he'd ever had.

"God, this is incredible!" Dean said between bites. "Where did you get this?"

Alicia smiled. "Up the road at Rosie's Home Cooking. She never closes, not even for Christmas. She thinks everyone deserves a good meal, any day of the week." 

"Thank God for that."

Alicia nodded and began to eat her meal. They ate in comfortable silence, enjoying the good meal and each other's company. Finally, Dean pushed away his plate and took a sip of his sweet tea, which turned out to be the best damned tea he's ever had.

"I have a question," Dean said as Alicia worked on her roll.

"Ask away."

"You were talking to me earlier about faith and asking if I believed."

"I did."

"Now, I'm not saying that I all of a sudden found the grace of God, but…what if I saw something?"

"Like what?"

Dean hesitated, wondering for a second if Alicia would even believe him. It wasn't everyday you had a lengthy conversation with your long-dead mother and Dean didn't want to scare the nurse off by thinking he belonged in a loony bin. He saw that she was looking at him expectantly, so he decided to trudge ahead.

"I saw my mom."

"You mean as in a dream?"

"I mean as in I'm not sure if it was a dream or not," Dean admitted.

"Oh." Alicia sat back in her chair and Dean thought he had finally managed to run her off. Instead, she surprised him by smiling and nodding. "What did she say?"

Dean could very well tell her what Mary said about Sam, what his brother was doing while he was lying in a slightly catatonic state. He could even tell her somehow he managed to go back in time and snag a front row seat to a flashback involving his brother. But, again, the threat of her very possibly calling the psych ward and having him carted away convinced him otherwise.

"She just told me everything was going to be okay, that she's watching over Sammy and me."

"Just because you saw your mother, Dean, doesn't mean you have to be a believer. Maybe she thought you could use a helping hand, to put your mind at ease about your brother."

"So, it's not weird?"

"Oh, no, it's weird," Alicia said quickly.

Dean ducked his head down, embarrassed.

Alicia chuckled. "I'm kidding, Dean. I don't think it's weird at all. If anything, I think it's a blessing."

"It felt nice, but weird at the same time, you know? This kind of stuff doesn't happen to me, it's more Sammy's thing."

"Maybe she thought you could use it more."

"Maybe…"

"It's best not to question it, Dean. You've been handed a wonderful gift, a gift many people would love to receive. You got a chance to speak to your mother. I would give anything to get the chance to speak to my grandmother one more time."

Dean thought about it—he didn't want to come off as if he was questioning what happened. He guessed it was reassurance he was looking for. He wanted reassurance that what he saw was real. He'd had faith tested and tossed aside too many times and he wasn't willing to allow it to happen again.

"I'm sorry…I didn't mean to preach to you," Alicia said, cheeks turning red.

"You didn't," Dean said quickly.

Alicia smiled but Dean wasn't sure if she believed him or not. She started to reach for her jacket on the back of her chair and Dean was sure he'd finally succeeded in running her off. She caught him by complete surprise when she pulled out a deck of cards and shot him a challenging look.

"So, tell me, Dean…do you know anything about poker?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

The lonely stretch of road spread for miles ahead of Sam. After Jess left, he found himself walking, wandering around aimlessly. He didn't know or care where he was going, he just had to walk. He always found it cleared his head and at that moment, he head definitely needed clearing.

He was still reeling from his encounter with Jess—he had to admit, seeing her again really did a number on him emotionally, his thoughts conflicting and in a constant battle with his psyche. He was trilled to be given the chance to see her, to speak to her just one more time. He would have given anything and everything to get that chance and it turned out all he had to do was have a fight with Dean and get hit by a car. He'd have to keep that in mind for future reference…

Chuckling softly, Sam amused himself with that thought as it ran through his mind. He was more than sure Dean wouldn't approve if he did that again. He didn't like putting his brother through all this grief, he never liked hurting Dean. But he'd had to find the answers he was searching for and if that meant getting a few good hours of sleep and Dean freaking out, then that was how it had to be.

Sam inhaled deeply, taking in the fresh outdoor scent of the Minnesota woods. It was calming to him, even though he walked in complete silence. Not one single car had passed, but Sam was sure it wouldn't matter anyway, since he was invisible to everything and everyone. That was why the voice behind him caught him by complete surprise.

"You look lost, Sam."

Sam stopped walking and whirled around, instantly recognizing the woman speaking to him. But how was that possible? How could she be dead? He hadn't heard she'd passed, then again, he didn't really get a chance to keep up with everyone and all the news when he and Dean were constantly on the move.

"Layla?"

Layla Rourke smiled at him. "You seem surprised to see me."

"Yeah," Sam admitted. "Actually, I am."

"I can understand that. I'm still getting used to it myself."

"Getting used to what?"

"Being dead."

Sam laughed, but instantly cringed. Why the hell was he laughing at her? She was dead for God's sakes and here he was laughing as if she had told the funniest joke he'd ever heard. But given what he'd witnessed in the last few hours, he was beginning to wonder if he was on the verge of cracking. Still, that didn't give him an excuse to laugh. _Real smooth, Sam, a real class act._

But Layla just shook her head and smiled at his stricken face. "It's okay, Sam. It was a joke."

Sam let out a sigh of relief as he looked at the young woman standing before him. Even though it had been almost a year since he and Dean had left Layla and Nebraska far behind in their rearview mirror, she still looked as she did the day he met her. The only difference this time being she looked full of life, with rosy cheeks, bright brown eyes, and glowing blonde hair.

"When did you—"

"Die? A couple of months after you and Dean left."

"I'm sorry," Sam offered lamely.

"Don't be. I'm in a better place now, where I'm not hurting. I feel whole again, which is something I haven't felt in a long time."

"It really is good to see you again, Layla."

"You too, Sam." Layla paused. "How's Dean?"

"Dean is…Dean," Sam said as if that explained everything.

Layla surprised him by nodding, as if that was all she needed to hear. "I'm glad to hear that."

"So…I guess you're here to show me the future."

"I am."

"How did you get stuck with this gig?"

"I wanted to do it," Layla answered.

"Really?"

Layla shrugged. "Maybe I needed to take on one more pity case before I could earn my wings."

Sam smiled. "You mean you don't already have them?"

"Have you heard any bells ringing?"

Sam chuckled, appreciating Layla's sense of humor. It was breaking up the seriousness of the situation and Sam welcomed the distraction.

"Are you ready to get started?" Layla asked softly.

"I guess now's a good as time as any." 

Layla smiled. "I'm going to show you three things, Sam. I'll show you what will become of you and Dean together if you decide to stick with him; I'll show you how Dean would fare if he didn't have you and I'll show you how Dean would be if you chose not to continue with him."

"They gave you the heavy workload," Sam commented.

Layla's smile widened. "It's okay to be nervous, Sam. By all means, you should be. The future is a scary thing to see, to think about. It's frightening to know what your life will become before you have the chance to live it."

Sam nodded. He had to admit, this part of the "journey" scared him the most. With the past and present, he knew what happened as far as he and Dean were concerned, he could brace himself for what he was going to witness then. But the future? It wasn't something he could control, anticipate. That fact alone scared him shitless.

He took a deep calming breath and glanced up at Layla. "I'm ready."

_"What the hell…" _

_The scene before the two Winchester brothers was one of complete chaos. A path of destruction could be seen for miles—trees twisted at odd angles, cars flipped on top of each other, decimated homes and businesses, and downed power lines were just the beginning of it. It almost appeared as if a nuclear explosion hit the small town of Collins, Oklahoma, but the brothers knew better. The destruction wasn't caused by man or any supernatural creature they hunted; this was Mother Nature at her worst, the truest of all evils. _

_Looking out the window of his brother's Impala, Sam could only stare in awe and shock at the commotion going on around him. He and Dean had managed to get to Collins just after the tornado hit, but listening to the radio, he found out the roads were now closed off. People were hugging each other in the streets, sobbing and covered in blood, walking around as if in a daze. The young psychic's heart bled for these people, they appeared as if they still hadn't fully comprehended what had just conspired here and he was sure they wouldn't for a while yet. _

_"Dean…" he said softly. _

_Dean nodded, eyes roaming over everything. "Yeah…" _

_Sam looked over to see Dean wearing the same awed expression he was. It was no wonder why—everyday, they went after the things that went bump in the night, things people were too afraid to admit actually existed. They fought the good fight everyday, but dealing with Mother Nature was a different story—she wasn't something that could easily be defeated. She was a bitch and she struck relentlessly each and every day, in every corner of the world. _

_"We have to do something, Dean." _

_"What?" his older brother asked. "Sam, these people are having a rough enough time as it is dealing with this. The last thing they need is two complete strangers butting there noses in and possibly making it worse." _

_"Dean, look at this place. There could be people trapped in those buildings. We have nothing to rush to, we could help." _

_Dean glanced at his brother and was about to argue even more when a disheveled woman with mussed, short brown hair and blood running down her face, ran in front of the Impala. Even though Dean was only coasting along, he slammed on his brakes to avoid hitting her. _

_"Please! Can you help us?" _

_Dean and Sam exchanged glances, then Sam rolled down his window which the woman promptly ran to. _

_"What do you need?" Sam asked in a gentle voice. _

_"The school…kids…trapped," the woman answered, breathlessly. _

_"You have kids trapped in the school?" Sam asked feeling his mouth go dry, trying to make sense of what the hysterical woman was telling them. _

_"Yes!" _

_Sam didn't even check with Dean before answering—his mind was made up and nothing his older brother could say would change it. "We'll help. Just calm down and tell us where the school is." _

_"It's over there." The woman pointed shakily behind her. Sam followed her finger to see a red brick building, half of it in ruins. Windows were shattered along the left wall and the roof was caved in along the wall as well. _

_"Okay," Sam answered. _

_The woman nodded and rushed over to a cluster of women who were bleeding and sobbing. He watched as she spoke to them and gestured wildly towards the brothers. _

_"Are you kidding, Sam? We can't go in that building, it's too dangerous." _

_"I'm not leaving those kids trapped in there, Dean." _

_"We're not exactly prepared to go in there, ourselves."_

_"Dean we have to help them…_please_." Sam watched as Dean cringed when he said the magic word. It was a low-blow on his part and he knew it. Dean never could deny him when he said it. It had helped Sam get Dean to do a lot of things he wouldn't normally do when they were growing up. But Sam also knew there was no way Dean was going to let those kids stay in that building, he wouldn't be able to. _

_"Dammit, Sammy," Dean muttered as he pushed his door open. Sam bit back a grin as he followed his brother to the trunk of the car. Dean opened it and started pulling out flashlights and an ax. Sam reached in and grabbed the first aid kit and trailed after Dean as the older man made his way to the group of women. _

_"Where are the emergency crews?" he asked. _

_"They haven't been able to get here, yet," the woman who stopped them said. "The roads are blocked and until they can get the cleared, we're on our own." _

_"Why are there kids still in the building? Don't you have an evacuation plan, a basement, or something to take cover?" _

_"We have a basement, but a few of the kids must have gone back for Rufus." _

_"Who the hell is Rufus?" Dean didn't mean to snap at the woman, but he couldn't for the life of him begin to understand why they would let a group of kids go unsupervised to get a "Rufus." _

_"Rufus is our class hamster. The kids didn't want to leave him alone." _

_"Why didn't someone go with them? Why didn't a teacher go get the damn hamster?" _

_"They must have snuck off. We never realized they were gone until the tornado was over and they weren't with the rest of the students." _

_"All right, my brother and I are going to go in and see if we can get the kids out. I don't want anyone else in that building, you understand?" _

_"But we could help," a middle aged man spoke up walking towards the group. _

_"No, you could get yourself killed. We can't worry about keeping you safe while we're trying to help the kids. You just stay out here and wait for us to get them out." Dean turned to his baby brother. "Come on, Sam." _

_Sam followed Dean wordlessly to the school. He couldn't fault his brother for how he spoke to the crowd—Dean was worried and though he wouldn't admit it, afraid. He was afraid of what they would find in there, what could happen to them. Sam knew that because he feared the same thing, as well. _

_They cautiously made their way around the building where they found a door propped open. Giving Sam a flashlight, Dean turned his on and led the way into the building. _

_The inside of the building didn't look any better than the outside did. Florescent lighting hung from the ceiling by their wires and papers, books, and glass littered the floors. Every now and then, electrical sparks rained down on their heads, but the hunters ignored it and trudged forward. _

_"Hello?" Dean called out into the darkness. _

_"Anyone in here?" Sam added. _

_The brothers walked in silence, listening for any sounds. Finally after a few tense minutes, Sam heard a couple of faint cries off to his left. _

_"Dean, you hear that?" _

_Dean concentrated and finally heard what his brother did. He looked down the hallway and pointed to the left. "It came from down there." _

_Sam nodded and followed Dean, being careful of the debris that seemed to get thicker as they progressed down the hall. _

_"Hey!" Dean yelled. _

_"Somebody, help us!" a young girl's voice cried out. _

_Sam and Dean glanced at each other and took off quickly down the hall, being careful of the debris. They came to a classroom, where the door was barely cracked open. _

_"Are you in there?" Dean asked. _

_"Yes, we can't get out," said the same little girl. She started to sob and Dean looked over at Sam, nodding and then turning his attention to the door, trying to figure out how to safely open it. _

_"Hey. What's your name?" Sam asked through the crack in the door. _

_"Emma." _

_"Emma, my name is Sam. Can you tell me how old you are, Emma?" _

_"Nine." _

_"What grade are you in?" _

_"Fourth." _

_Dean swore softly and Sam glanced back at him. "I'm going to have to kick it open. You need to get those kids back." _

_"Emma, I need you to listen to me, okay?" _

_"Okay." _

_"My brother, Dean, is going to get the door open but we need you to move away from it." _

_"Okay," came the small reply. _

_"Tell us when you're ready," Sam said. _

_There was silence except for the scurry of little feet behind the door. Finally, after a minute, Emma called out they were ready. _

_Sam nodded to Dean, who handed the younger man in his flashlight. Dean stepped back and brought his foot up, firmly kicking it against the door. It budged a little so Dean repeated the process until the door was opened wide enough for Sam to fit his lanky body through. Not wasting any time, Sam returned Dean's flashlight to him and entered the room. He searched the room, his eyes finally landing on the far corner where a group of kids were huddled together, sobbing. _

_"It's okay," he said soothingly. "We're going to get you out of here." _

_The kids looked up at him and nodded, though Sam could see the evident fear in their eyes. "You guys are doing a great job, okay? I need to know if everyone is okay, are any of you hurt?" _

_"Jake is," Emma, a small framed brunette answered. _

_"Where is he?" Sam moved closer to the kids and they scattered away so he could see Jake, a tall boy with shaggy blonde hair. He was lying on the ground, clutching his leg tightly with one hand, and the other was wrapped firmly around a small white cage. Moving some small debris, Sam knelt next to the kid, shining his flashlight on the wound, which was bleeding. _

_"What happened, Jake?" _

_"One of the lights fell on my leg," the child answered. "It cut it open." _

_Sam nodded at the cage. "Who's your little friend?" _

_Jake smiled a toothy smile. "This is Rufus. He's our class pet." _

_Sam gently moved Jake's hand and saw the deep three inch gash that ran along the boy's thigh. Opening up the first aid kit, Sam pulled out the roll of gauze and wrapped it tightly around the leg, staunching the blood flow. _

_"Is Jake going to be okay?" a boy asked quietly. _

_Sam turned and nodded at the chubby red head. "He's going to be fine." _

_"Good." _

_"Sam, is everyone okay in there?" Dean called from the hallway. _

_"Yeah, but we got an injured kid. We need to get them out of here, Dean." _

_"All right." _

_Sam focused his attention once more on the children. They were all looking at him fearfully and expectantly. He had to get these kids out of here before anything else happened. The creaking he'd been hearing worried him and he was afraid of any more debris coming down on the kids. _

_"You guys ready to get out of here?" _

_The children nodded. _

_"Okay, I'm going to help you out the door where my brother is waiting. I want you to listen to what he tells you because he's going to get you out of here." _

_"What about Jake? He can't walk," Emma said. _

_"Don't worry about Jake, I'll get him out." Sam ushered the children to the door where he handed them off to Dean one at a time. Dean grabbed them and helped them into the hallway. Finally, the only child who remained in the room was Jake. _

_"Dean, get them out of here. I'm going to grab Jake and we'll be right behind you." _

_"Hurry up, Sam. I'm not sure how much time you have left before things start falling." _

_"Yeah, I've been hearing a lot of creaking in here. I'm not sure how much longer the roof's going to last." _

_"Move it, then." _

_Sam just shook his head at his brother's bossy tone and made his way towards Jake, who was trying his best to fight off sleep. _That's not good…he's about to go into shock._ But before Sam could take three steps, a loud creaking sounded above his head. He glanced up just as the roof caved in and rained down on him in a hail of sheetrock and metal. _

_XXXXXXXXXXXXX _

_Dean heard the commotion in the classroom as he ushered the group of children down the hall. He felt his heart plummet into his stomach as a single thought penetrated his mind—Sam, hurt! Torn between helping the children out of the school and his concern for his baby brother, Dean didn't know what to do. He knew he had to get these children out of here and fast. Sam would be pissed if Dean chose him over the kids. _Damn conscience…

_"Come on," he said through gritted teeth. He quickly whisked the children out of the school and watched as they ran as fast as they could to the group of adults. _

_"What's going on in there?" the woman from earlier asked. _

_"I'm not sure, but I think the roof just collapsed in the classroom," Dean said quickly. He didn't have time to sit out here and chit-chat, he had to get back to Sam. _

_The woman turned her attention to the children and began to count heads. "Where's Jake?" she asked, frowning. _

_"He's still inside—with my brother," Dean said tersely. _

_"What? Is he okay?" _

_Dean finally lost his patience with the woman. "Look, quit asking me questions. I need to get back in there and see what happened. Where the hell are the emergency crews?" _

_The woman flinched at his tone. "We just called…they said they were trying to get here as fast as they could." _

_"It's not fast enough," Dean growled. He didn't wait to hear a response as he rushed back into the school. He had to get to Sam, had to make sure he wasn't hurt. Nothing else mattered at that point except Sammy. _

_XXXXXXXXXXXXX _

_Sam groggily lifted his head from the floor as the dust settled around him. He coughed a bit as the dust assaulted his nostrils and instantly regretted it as pain wracked through his body. The last thing he remembered was the roof raining down on him and then he must have blacked out for a few minutes. He couldn't move the lower part of his body, and using the faint light from the cloudless sky, he saw that a portion of the roof was resting on his legs. But wait a minute—there was something else nagging at his cloudy mind… _

_Jake! _

_Feeling a slight movement underneath him, Sam realized he was on top of Jake. He must have shielded the boy with his body at the last possible moment. The small boy coughed and wriggled away from Sam, wincing in pain from his leg injury. _

_"Jake, are you okay?" _

_"Yeah, I think so," the little boy said quietly. _

_"Good." Sam smiled slightly as he saw the small white cage the boy was clutching. "How's Rufus?" _

_"He's okay." Jake smiled, but then frowned when he saw the section of roof lying on Sam. "Are you okay?" _

_Sam didn't want to scare the child so he said, "I'm fine." The truth was, the young hunter was hurting. He felt a dull throbbing pain in his right ankle and figured he'd managed to either severely sprain it or it was broken. _

_"Are you sure?" Jake asked. _

_"Yeah, Jake. I'm just a little stuck." _

_Sam heard a rush of footsteps he recognized instantly, outside the door. "Sam, you still in there? You okay?" _

_"Yeah, we're in here, Dean. The roof collapsed."_

_"Are you hurt?" _

_"My ankle—I think it may be broken." _

_"Dammit," he heard Dean mutter. "What about the kid? Is he okay?" _

_"Yeah, Dean, he's fine." _

_"Can you move around? Get out of there?" _

_"No, part of the roof fell on me. I can't move it." _

_"Son of a bitch!" _

_"Dean…" Sam looked at Jake, but the boy just shrugged and clutched the cage tighter to his chest. _

_"Sorry," Dean said. "All right, listen to me. I'm going to get you out of there, okay? I just need you to hold on." _

_"Can you get through the door?" Sam asked. _

_"No, it's blocked in again," Dean said, pounding against it in frustration. "Don't worry, Sammy. I'll figure out a way to get the two of you out." _

_"Be careful, Dean." _

_Sam heard the faint sounds of sirens approaching. _

_"Sammy, I'll be right back. Just hang on, okay?" _

_"Not like I can go anywhere." _

_It was soft, but Sam could have sworn he heard Dean mutter "bitch." _

_"Jerk!" Sam yelled out in response. _

_"Is he going to get us out of here?" Jake asked quietly. _

_"Yeah, Jake, just as soon as he can." _

_"Good." The boy remained quiet for a few minutes. "So…is he your big brother?" _

_"Yes, he is." _My big brother, my protector, my guardian, my life.

_"That's cool." _

_"Yeah, it is." Sam smiled. "Do you have any brothers or sisters, Jake?" _

_"I used to have a big brother," Jake said softly. _

_Sam heard the hurt and pain in the boy's small voice and his heart ached. He wanted to do something to comfort him, but he didn't know what to do. How do you comfort someone who lost his brother? It was impossible, though Sam never experienced it himself. He didn't know how the kid was feeling, he could only guess. _

_"Do you want to talk about it, Jake?" _

_"I—I guess so." _

_"Okay." Sam tried to shift his body do he could get a little more comfortable, but it was hard with the section of roof acting as deadweight on his legs. "What was your brother's name?" _

_"Colin." _

_"What happened to him, Jake?" _

_The boy sniffled ."He was killed in a car crash last year on his seventeenth birthday." _

_"I'm sorry to hear that, Jake." _

_"Yeah…" he sniffled again. "Colin was the best big brother ever. He used to do all kinds of things with me—he took me fishing, we went to baseball games, we did everything. He always watched out for me." _

_"He was your hero," Sam stated. _

_"Yeah…does your brother do that for you, Sam?" _

Everyday of my life. _"Yes, Jake, Dean always watches out for me." _

_"That's what big brothers are supposed to do," Jake explained. _

_"Yes, it is." _

_"Is your brother bossy?" _

_Sam laughed. _Did this kid really know Dean or what? _"Dean is always bossy." _

_"Big brothers are supposed to do that, too." _

_"Yes, they are, Jake." And really, Sam wouldn't have it any other way. Yes, Dean could be as bossy and stubborn with the best of them, but he did it for a reason—Sam. Sam knew at the end of the day, Dean was still going to be there for him, waiting for him. No matter what else went wrong in the world, Sam could depend on his brother always being there for him. _

_"Hey, Jake, I have an idea," Sam said. He felt he owed something to the kid, something Dean provided him with everyday—love and protection. Jake deserved to have the same thing he did—a brother to look up to. _

_"What is it?" Jake asked. _

_"How would you like for me to be your big brother?" _

_"Would you really do that for me?" Jake's excited voice asked. _

_"I wouldn't be able to stick around here, but you could always call me or email me anytime you needed to talk." _

_"I would like that." _

_"I would, too. I always wanted to be a big brother." _

_"I'll be the best little brother ever!" Jake said proudly. _

_"I know you will, Jake." _

_"Hey, Sam?" _

_"Yeah?" _

_"Thanks for being here with me." _

_"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else." _

_"SAM!" _

_Sam's head jerked up when he heard his brother's voice once again. _

_"Help's here, Sammy. We're gonna get you and Jake out of there…" _

**As you can see, John is not the third guide. And I have a reason for that: Layla always left such a memorable impression on me and I wanted to bring her back. She seemed like such a logical choice for me. I didn't want John to be the guide, because I figured it would lead to a huge argument between he and Sam. **


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: Thank you so much for the wonderful reviews, guys. I know I say that every time, but I really mean it. You really do encourage me to keep writing and keep giving you more.**

**I am so happy that you were surprised and thrilled that I chose Layla as the thrid guide. I was really apprehensive about that when I first wrote it, but you have really made me feel better about it now, so thank you!**

**This is a shorter chapter, but I didn't want to cram too much into it. I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think!**

"You see, Sam, the love Dean has given you, the protection he surrounds you with, you get to share that with a special little boy." Layla was smiling up at him.

"So, Jake…he's going to be okay?"

"More than okay. Dean, and with his reluctance, a few firefighters are able to get you and Jake out safely. You managed to stop Jake's bleeding with your first aid, so he just needed a few stitches. And by jumping on him, you saved him from further injury, possibly death."

"I had to do something. I couldn't stand by and watch him get hurt."

"Your heart is always in the right place, Sam."

Sam flashed Layla a half-smile.

"You see, Sam—you and Dean do good everywhere, not just in the supernatural world. You help a lot of people, more than you could possibly ever know. So many people, though they may never admit it, are grateful for the work you and your brother do. But like I said, Sam, it's you and Dean—you two are an incredible team, a driving force."

Sam nodded; he knew what Layla was saying was true. He and Dean _were _a team, always had been. When Sam left for Stanford, he felt as if half of him were missing, his Dean half. He didn't know if Dean felt the same way he did, but he had to believe he did. Dean somewhat admitted it to him a few months ago when he told him part of the reason he dragged Sam away from college was so they could be a family again.

"Sam, what I'm going to show you next, I want you to prepare yourself, because I can't promise that it's going to be good."

Sam's eyes widened, his heart hammering in his chest. It wasn't going to be good? What the hell was that supposed to mean? Why wasn't it going to be good? What was going to happen? He didn't have any time to question it further as he and Layla were brought into another vision.

_The hot, quiet June night was too much for Dean Winchester to handle. He didn't like the quiet, in fact, it was almost deafening to the hunter. He wanted to know where his opponent was at all times, not feel like he was lost and alone. But, in truth, the young man _was _alone. He had been since the day he lost it all—the day he finally lost everything that tethered him to this world._

_And he knew who was to blame—the yellow-eyed bastard who haunted every single one of his dreams and his waking moments. The demon had managed to rip away everything from him—his mother, his father, and most of all, his Sammy—and he'd done it in the blink of an eye._

_The remaining Winchester had been searching for the demon for the past two years, ever since the day Bobby had given him the ultimatum: waste away and pity himself or get out there and do something. Dean chose the latter and it was a decision he never regretted, not once._

_The young man spent every waking hour hunting down the supernatural evils of the world all the while continuing his search for the yellow-eyed demon. He was not about to let someone else go through the same hell he'd had to endure. No one deserved to live a life full of pain and Dean made sure no one did._

_He'd managed to save a lot of people and send many creatures straight through the gates of Hell. While Dean felt good about what he's accomplished the past two years, he still felt as if a part of him were missing. He felt as if he were doing this for all of the wrong reasons, instead of having a purpose. He felt as if he needed a purpose to do what he was doing besides revenge. Revenge was an ugly son of a bitch and lately, it was what defined the young demon hunter._

_But that revenge also fueled the fire, it made hunger and thirst for more. It made him want to hunt the monster down who was responsible for everything and it made him do it relentlessly. He was finding it hard to see past his anger and Dean channeled that rage on his hunts. Some may say he was ruthless, but Dean didn't see where evil deserved anything better. It was that evil that made his entire life suck, so he was only returning the favor to them._

_Two days ago, Dean was blessed with Intel as to the possible whereabouts of the yellow-eyed demon. He'd been in the middle of hunting a poltergeist in Texas, but he'd dropped everything and driven to Kansas—Lawrence, Kansas to be exact. He now thought of it as poetic how the fight was going to end exactly where it started all those years ago. And it was going to end tonight—Dean was going to make sure of that. There was only going to be one victor, and really, he didn't care who would succeed in the end. He just knew it was going to be over and that was all that mattered to the young man._

_Dean reached into the back waistband of his jeans and extracted his prize—the one thing that could truly banish the demon to Hell and beyond—the Colt revolver Samuel Colt crafted in 1835 that could kill anything and everything evil under the sun, even nasty yellow-eyed sons of bitches. Dean never knew such a weapon existed until Bobby mentioned something about it three months ago, told Dean where he could find it._

_Dean had made his way to Manning, Colorado to see if he could persuade Daniel Elkins, a highly respected vampire hunter, to give it to him. And it took a lot of persuading on his part—_a lot—_namely, a good chunk of change Dean had been saving up for some time and even then, the grizzled hunter didn't want to give up the Colt. So, Dean resorted to a different kind of persuasion—violence. He'd given Elkins a nice little knock on the head, left the money, and swiped the gun and bullets. He knew Elkins would be pissed when he woke up and noticed the gun missing, but Dean could care less. He had a demon to vanquish and Elkins had the means to do it._

_Moving stealthily through the old factory, Dean began to wonder if maybe he should have considered bringing backup. It wouldn't have been such a bad idea, that way he could have at least had someone covering his back. But then again, that wasn't Dean—he didn't put people in harm's way if he could help it. Bobby even offered to join him, but Dean declined—he wasn't about to let Bobby sacrifice himself for his battle, his mess. This was something Dean had to do on his own, for his family._

_Still, Dean would love it if he'd had someone to banter with, calm his nerves. He wasn't stupid—he was scared shitless and why shouldn't he be? He'd heard countless stories what the demon was capable of, been witness to what it had done to him mom and baby brother. It was a sight that never gave his eyes a reprieve._

_Holding the gun tightly in one hand and his flashlight in the other, Dean weaved his way through the huge steel cannery machinery and the rows upon rows of boxes that were stacked several feet high. He knew from the info he got from Bobby the Kitty Korral Canning factory had been abandoned for several years. _What better place to set up a base of operations, _he thought wryly._

_Hearing a sound off to his right, Dean held his breath and took cover behind one of the machines, his gun at the ready. It felt heavy in his grip, but not as heavy as the air that was surrounding him. He felt as if he couldn't breathe and knew this was it. _This is what I've been waiting for. Come on you fugly yellow-eyed freak…

"_Are you lost, son?"_

_Dean looked sharply to his right to see a heavy-set middle-aged man with close cropped auburn hair slowly approaching. The man was dressed in a light blue security guard uniform with navy pants and appeared to have kind blue eyes. But Dean knew better—he knew the demon could possess anyone, take on different personas with the drop of a hat. He wasn't about to be played the fool, not for a second._

"_I'm not lost."_

_The man scratched his head, his other hand resting lightly on his nightstick. "This place has been closed for years. You wanna tell me what business you have for being here?"_

_Dean cocked his head. "That's for me to know and you to find out."_

_The guard's eyes flashed angrily. "You think this is a game, son? You're trespassing on private property—I could have your ass tossed in jail."_

_Dean shrugged and raised the Colt up. "How about we cut the shit and get this over with already?"_

_The guard smiled—a cold, calculating smile as his eyes turned from blue to a golden-yellow. "Dean Winchester—I was wondering when you would figure it out."_

"_No offense, but a monkey could figure it out. You oughta work on that act of yours a little more."_

"_I'll keep that in mind for future reference."_

_Dean smiled his own cold smile. "There isn't going to be a future reference." He cocked the gun, which only caused the demon to laugh, adding more fuel to the hunter's anger. "Something funny to you?"_

"_Are you really that naïve, Dean, thinking you can use that gun on me?"_

"_This isn't just any gun. You think I haven't been doing my homework on you, picking up where my dad left off?"_

"_Your daddy, yes…the great John Winchester." If it was at all possible, the demon's smile grew wider. "You know, I really expected more of a fight from him especially from all the talk I heard about him. As I seem to recall, he died screaming. Pathetic, if you ask me."_

_Dean stiffened at the demon's condescending tone. "You son of a bitch," he muttered through gritted teeth._

"_Oh, did I hit a sore spot?"_

"_You don't get to talk about him like that."_

"_Why not, Dean? Because you say so?" The demon laughed again as he saw Dean begin to visibly shake. "Tell me, Dean…how was it growing up all alone, without your family? How did it feel to lose everything you ever loved? How did it feel to lose your father right after you found him again?"_

"_Shut up!"_

"_Another sore spot, huh?"_

_Dean's grip tightened on the Colt. "I'm sending your ass straight back to Hell."_

_The demon nodded towards the gun. "With your little toy gun there? I thought you said you've done your homework, Dean. If so, then you would know that gun would never work on me."_

"_You think so? Maybe you haven't heard the news. This isn't some ordinary gun; it will send you and all your little friends straight into oblivion. Samuel Colt made sure of that."_

_Dean felt a moment of satisfaction as the demon's smile finally faltered. But just as quickly, he recovered and the smile was back. "So, it does exist. Here I thought it was just a legend."_

"_That's what you get for thinking."_

"_It would appear so." The demon let out a long sigh and cocked his head to study Dean. "So, you have the gun. You don't think I'm just going to stand here and let you shoot me, do you?"_

"_I hope you don't plan on making it that easy for me. It would be a let down and let's be honest, after all I've heard about you, I've been looking forward to a good fight."_

"_You're not as stupid as all of the other hunters, Dean. I guess I have no choice but to oblige your request."_

_Dean smiled—finally, the moment he'd been looking forward to for twenty years, twenty years since this freak began to systematically take away his life. At this moment, Dean felt vindicated, even if he didn't come out of this fight alive. He felt vindicated for his mom, dad and little brother all taken from him way too soon. Dean wasn't doing this for himself; he was doing it for the people and love he'd lost._

_The shock barely registered on his face as he went flying through the air, crashing through the stacks of boxes. He didn't know how, but somehow he'd managed to maintain his grip on the Colt, even as he landed hard on the floor. Shakily pulling himself up to his feet, he was just standing up straight when the demon appeared in front of him, smirking. _

"_Still managed to hold onto your gun, I see." The demon jerked his head to the left and Dean once again became airborne, this time losing his grip on the gun as he crashed into a wall. He felt pain racing through his body as his head connected solidly with the hard concrete and then warm blood oozing down his face from the laceration beneath his hairline. He looked over to see the gun was lying several yards away from him._

"_I've got to tell you, Dean, I expected a lot more from you, as well, especially with all that rage you've built up inside of you. You're just making it too easy for me, I'm not even enjoying myself. Sad, really."_

"_Maybe if you didn't use your demonic mojo and fought like a man, it would be a different story."_

_The demon nodded at Dean, amused. "You want a fair fight? What the hell…I'm feeling generous today."_

_Dean pushed himself up off the floor, bringing his body to a fighter's stance. His mind didn't even entertain the fact this was an innocent man he was about to lay into. The guard didn't ask to become possessed, he was just an unfortunate bystander. But Dean couldn't think about that, couldn't let the humanity of it get in the way. All he could think about was this was the thing who'd destroyed his life and he needed to be punished._

_The demon waggled his fingers as if inviting Dean to take a free shot at him. Dean wasn't one to disappoint so he aimed a well executed right hook against the demon's jaw. His head jerked back and when he turned to face Dean again, blood was flowing from his busted lip. The demon threw a punch of his own, which Dean deftly sidestepped, and using his leg, the hunter swept the demon's legs right from under him. The demon fell hard and Dean was pretty sure he heard the demon's head hit the floor._

_Straddling the demon, Dean delivered punch after angry punch to his face, smiling in morbid satisfaction as he saw more blood and signs swelling and bruising. The victory was short-lived as the demon reached up a hand and grabbing Dean's throat, he tossed him across the floor. Dean landed hard on his right shoulder and felt it pop out of place. Wincing and biting back a cry, because he wasn't about to give the bastard the satisfaction, he began to pull himself up. The demon kicked him in the stomach before he could get up on one knee, and he was back down for the count again. The demon then repeatedly started to kick him and Dean who was trying his damnedest to keep himself covered, was pretty sure he heard a couple of ribs crack from the assault._

"_What's the matter, Dean? Can't keep up?" the demon mocked._

"_You bastard." Dean gritted his teeth and caught sight of the Colt now lying only eight feet away. He turned on his stomach and started to crawl towards it. The demon saw his intention and just as Dean was reaching for it, he got there first and plucked it off the ground. He smiled at Dean as the young man looked on in horror._

"_I find myself tiring of this fight, young one. You're looking like a dog that needs to be put down. And if anything, I don't like to see an animal suffer." He jerked his head and Dean felt himself sliding across the floor and crashing into the concrete wall once more. He then felt his body lifting in the air and he was pinned to the wall by an invisible force. He tried to fight it, but the force held strong. Through a haze of pain, he saw the demon slowly approach him, stroking the gun tenderly._

"_You're so intent on seeing this gun work, how about I show you." He aimed the gun at Dean's chest. "The Winchester legacy comes to an end…"_

Sam felt his body screaming as he was jerked away from the factory. _Dean…oh, God, what happened to Dean? _He reached for Layla and gripped her firmly by her arms. "No, wait! You have to tell me what happens! What happens to Dean?"

"You know what happens, Sam. Turn around."

Sam did as he was told and found himself standing in the middle of a cemetery. A light drizzle had begun to fall and the gray sky seemed to mimic what he was feeling inside when he looked down and saw the headstone before him. "No," he whispered.

He fell to his knees and started to pull at the grass. When he saw that wasn't helping him any, he rubbed his hand over the smooth, polished granite. "Dean…" Tears stung his eyes as he read the headstone: _Dean Winchester—January 2, 1979-June 8, 2004._

"I'm sorry you had to see this, Sam."

Sam nodded numbly, feeling the tears flowing down his cheeks. He knew this wasn't real, in his mind he knew that. But seeing this right now made it feel so real, like it had really happened. How could Dean, his big brother, the greatest man he'd ever known, be dead? Why did he have to go after the damn demon? Why did he have to sacrifice himself for some stupid vendetta? Why couldn't he have just moved on?

"It was because of you, Sam."

"What?" Sam looked sharply at Layla, his hazel eyes blazing through the tears.

"He died doing what he thought was right for you, for his family. He couldn't allow your deaths to go without some sort of retribution. If he died fighting the demon, he was okay with that, he could deal with that. It meant he was going to be reunited with you once again."

"That's stupid."

"Wouldn't you have done the same if you were in his place?" Layla challenged.

Sam didn't even have to think about that. Yes, he would sacrifice himself if it meant staying with his brother. He would get revenge for Dean, kill for Dean, no matter what the price may be in the end. That was his love for his brother—his undying, devoted love for the man who'd raised him since birth and into the man he was today, been his mentor, and his best friend.

"You would do the same thing as Dean. Like we've been telling you, Sam, this could have been Dean if you were never a part of his life. But you are and that's what matters. Dean is okay because he has you, he has a greater purpose in the world. Taking yourself away from him, Sam, it wouldn't be good for him, he wouldn't last long."

"What do you mean?"

"I'll show you."


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: Okay, guys…I realize that I left you hanging on the last chapter and I just couldn't let you suffer, so here is the next chapter. I'm sad to say that there is only one more chapter to go after this…I think this calls for a group hug…**

**As always, I deeply appreciate the comments and kind words you have left for me. To have this kind of encouragement does wonders for an author, especially when they're never sure how readers will respond to what they are writing.**

**Oh, and the alerts have not been going out like they are supposed to, so if you haven't read Chapter 9, you may want to do that before you go into this one.**

**Please let me know what you think!**

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Dean was a loser—a big sore loser. It was bad enough he lost a poker game—six to be exact—but the fact he'd lost them to a woman was just so much worse for him. It wasn't that he was saying a woman couldn't play poker—hell, he'd met his fair share of women who could hold their own against him. But Alicia? He never would have guessed the sweet, soft-spoken girl from Alabama would have been able to clean up so quickly.

"I should have warned you," she said sheepishly. "My dad taught me to play when I was young."

"That would have been nice to know."

"Hey, at least we weren't playing for money."

Dean winced as he watched her pop a red candy into her mouth and then turned his gaze onto the pile of rainbow-colored candy sitting in front of her. No, they hadn't been playing for money, it was worse—he'd been foolish enough to wager his entire Peanut M&M's stash, his one pleasure in life. And now he was forced to sit there and watch as Alicia devoured every bit of his guilty pleasure.

"I'm starting to wish it was money," Dean admitted with a sigh. "Then I wouldn't have to sit here and watch you eat it."

Alicia laughed. "Wow, you really are a sore loser!"

"Hey, I worked hard for that candy," Dean protested And he wasn't lying—pool hustling required great skill and finesse, both of which came easily to the hunter. "It's the only way I spoil myself."

"And I'm sure you can scrape up a couple of dollars and buy yourself a new bag tomorrow." She popped a green one into her mouth to emphasize her point.

"That still leaves me without any for tonight."

"You'll get over it." Alicia smirked. "I guess next time you won't be so cocky and try to bluff your way through every hand."

Dean shook his head. "There won't be a next time with you."

Alicia just shrugged and popped another candy into her mouth. Dean thought she was getting way too much pleasure out of torturing him. Luckily, the torture stopped when her cell phone began to chirp and she reached behind her to dig it out of her purse.

"Hey, Mollie…yeah, honey, I'm going to be there soon…No, I didn't forget I promised to take you to see the Christmas lights…I'm going to be there in a couple of hours…Yes, I have presents for you…Okay, I'll see you in a bit, sweetie."

She flipped her phone closed and smiled apologetically at Dean. "That was my kid sister. She was wondering when I was coming."

"It's no problem," Dean said. "Look, you don't have to keep me company any more if you need to go."

Alicia waved a dismissive hand. "I can stick around for a little while longer."

"I appreciate all you've done, Alicia, I really do." He took her hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I actually can't remember the last time I've gotten to sit and just relax and talk."

"You looked like you could use a friend." She squeezed his hand back.

"Go home to your family, Alicia. That's what Christmas is about."

"What about you?"

Dean looked over at Sam, letting a faint smile play on his lips. "I have my family right here."

Alicia nodded and stood up, gathering her winnings and sweeping them into her purse. Dean looked up at her, slightly appalled, but she just shrugged and grinned. "Hey, I won them fair and square. Besides, I need something to tide me over on the drive home." She grabbed her coat and shrugged it on.

"Be careful."

Alicia leaned down and kissed him on the cheek. "Everything will be okay, Dean. From what you told me, Sam is a fighter. You just have to have a little faith in him." She reached into her purse and pulled out a piece of paper. She scribbled something on it and handed it to Dean. "That's my cell number. Call me and let me know about Sam and any time you want to talk."

Dean looked at the number and smiled. "Thank you."

Alicia nodded and walked towards the door. "Merry Christmas, Dean."

"Merry Christmas." He watched the door close behind her and walked over to Sam's bed. "You hear that, kid? She wants me to call her and let her know about you. Only way I can do that is if you open up those puppy dog eyes of yours. Come on, Geek Boy. Time to rise and shine."

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

"What are we doing back here?" Sam glanced around his hospital room, confused. He saw Dean was perched in the chair next to the bed, staring at him. He saw discarded food containers filled the small trashcan and a deck of cards were sitting on the small table.

"I told you I was going to show you what happened if you chose not to continue with Dean," Layla said softly.

Sam walked to the other side of the bed and studied his brother, a small smile on his face. "He looks at peace."

"Looks can be deceiving, Sam. He's very troubled."

"About what?"

"About you. About what will happen if you don't wake up, what will happen if he no longer has you in his life. He's hurting inside because he doesn't know how he'll continue without you."

"But it's Dean…he'll figure it out. He'll learn to move on."

Layla shook her head. "No, he won't, Sam. He's had you in his life for the past twenty-three years. He doesn't know any other way to live. He's had the same routine everyday—get up, protect you, go to sleep. It's his life. If you take yourself away from him, you'll take away his life."

"So you're saying if I don't wake up and stay with Dean, he'll die?"

Layla didn't answer.

"How? When?" Sam didn't like to hear Dean's life hinged on his decision to live or die. He didn't like to know he was responsible for holding his brother's life in the palm of his hand. That was crazy to him—no one's life should be decided like that, especially not Dean's.

"I see you're conflicted by this."

"You think?" Sam scoffed, brows rising under his bangs. "You're basically telling me that I hold Dean's life in my hands. And really, no matter what I decide, he's screwed—he'll die no matter what I decide."

"Everyone dies, Sam. For one to live, another must die—that's the basic fact of life. So, yes, Dean will eventually die, but let it be doing something he loves…protecting you, his baby brother."

A full moon illuminated the night and he could see millions of star dotting the sky. A light snow was starting to fall and while that sight should have been relaxing, it did nothing to calm the young psychic's nerves.

"I don't know what I want, Layla." He turned around and noticed she was no longer in the room. "Layla? Layla?"

All of a sudden a steady beep filled the room. Sam looked over to see Dean jump from his seat and clutch his hand. Sam's eyes darted to the heart monitor and saw there was no steady thump of a pulse. He was dying…he was actually watching himself die.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Sam! Sammy!" Dean patted his brother's face, but wasn't getting any response. "Don't do this to me, man! Not now!"

Dean frantically pressed the CALL button and then ran to the door, flinging it open. Even as he heard the "Code Blue" page ringing out on the PA system, he still screamed. "Somebody, get me some help in here! I need help!"

The throng of footsteps heading towards him did nothing to alleviate his fears. He allowed the nurses and Doctor Stewart to push past him as they rushed to Sam's bedside. Dean walked to the edge of the bed. "Please, you have to help him…"

"Sir, if you want us to help your brother, you're going to have to stay back."

Dean nodded numbly as he was pushed away from the bed. He tuned out the commotion in the room and concentrated on his thoughts. _Sammy…Sammy was dying right before his eyes. Sammy was being taken away from him again. But it wouldn't be for only two years this time, it would be forever. Forever without Sammy, his kid brother, his trusty Geek Boy._

Dean felt the tears flowing down his cheeks and he did nothing to brush them away as he watched the medical staff frantically work to save his kid brother's life. _Come on, Sammy, you have to keep on living. You have to fight—fight for me._

He felt his body go completely numb as the doctor shook his head and pulled off his gloves. _No! _Doctor Stewart lifted his sleeve and glanced at his watch. _No! No!_

Doctor Stewart let out a long sigh and glanced over at Dean sadly. _No! _"Time of death—11:37 P.M."

_NOOOOO!_

"I am deeply sorry, Mr. Richards." He laid a hand on Dean's shoulder and squeezed it sympathetically.

Shaking his head in disbelief, he shrugged off the doctor's hand and ran from the room. He couldn't accept this, couldn't accept the fact Sammy had been taken away from him. His Sammy was gone—an innocent, beautiful life had been ripped away without any thoughts of what it meant to him.

Opening a door, Dean took the steps two at a time. The effort burned his lungs, but he barely felt it. Nothing could take away the pain, nothing could possibly make him feel better in that moment. There was nothing that could be done. Dean could only feel the pain and rage burning deep inside of him like he'd never felt before.

He burst through another door and the cold December night air embraced him. He ran to the middle of the roof and fell to his knees, the tears flowing steadily. There was no stopping them, he couldn't stop them even if he wanted to. He was mourning his loss and if he wiped them away, it would be as if he was wiping Sammy away and he wasn't ready to do that. Not now, now ever.

"WHY?" he screamed up to the heavens. "WHY HIM, HUH? WHAT DID HE EVER DO? WHY DID YOU HAVE TO TAKE HIM AWAY FROM ME?"

Nothing would return his answer.

"He was too young. He didn't deserve to die. Not now, not when I need him so much. I never got to tell him how much I needed him, what he meant to me. You've taken everything from me now. I have nothing left that I can give you."

Dean felt a moment of clarity raining down on him. He knew what he had to do, knew how he could get Sammy back. Rising slowly to his feet, he made his way towards the edge of the roof. It was only seven stories, but it would have the desired effect. It would be enough for him to let go of the pain that seemed to be suffocating him and be free. He'd already been given two chances to beat death and he was more than sure he wouldn't be given a third reprieve.

Stepping up onto the ledge, Dean Winchester felt at peace. For the first time in his life, he felt free, as if he wasn't burdened with guilt and the weight of the world on his shoulders. He felt he could be happy for once in his life and all it required was for him to take a step off the roof.

One thought penetrated his mind as he stepped over the edge.

_I'm coming home to you, Sammy…_

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Please don't kill me…runs and hides for cover**


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: Okay...so I'm sorry I left you guys with the evil cliffie in the last chapter. But the good news is that none of you managed to hunt me down and hurt me so I got the last chapter finished!**

**I saw that I scared a lot of you, so I figured I should get this chapter finished as soon as I could.**

**Well, I thank everyone who has taken the time to read and reviews. Your words have meant so much to me and I treasure each and every review. This is the last chapter, so let me know what you think of it and the story as a whole.**

**I want to thank Bayre for her constant guidance during my little trip into the fic. Thanks so much, Bayre!**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"DEAN!" Sam jerked up in his bed, the tubes in his arms pulling against his body.

Dean jumped up from his chair, pulling his gun out in the same instant, heart pounding a mile a minute at the sudden outburst. His eyes darted frantically around the small room and he was afraid his mind was playing tricks on him until his eyes came to rest on Sam. _Sam sitting up in bed, Sam awake!_

"Sammy?" He put the gun away and grabbed his brother's face in his hands, not sure if what he was seeing was real. "Are you okay?"

Sam batted his hands away angrily. "You bastard."

Dean looked at Sam, his eyebrows raised. "Dude, what the hell did I do?"

Sam kept his blazing hazel eyes on Dean. "What the hell were you thinking, Dean?"

"About what?"

"Jumping off the roof."

"What roof?"

"The hospital roof."

"I'm confused."

Sam let out an irritated sigh. "You jumped off the hospital roof, you jackass."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did."

"Dude, how the hell did I jump off the roof if I'm standing right here in front of you?"

Sam was about to argue, but he clamped his mouth shut, scarlet coloring his cheeks. Dean smiled in spite of his brother's embarrassment. "What's going on in that freaky head of yours?"

"Nothing," Sam said quietly.

"Then why the hell were you bitching at me about jumping off the roof?"

Sam shrugged. "Must have been a dream."

Dean chuckled. "Yeah, whatever." _God, it felt good to have him back, even if he was being a complete bitch._

Sam leaned back against his pillows, his embarrassment quickly turning to exhaustion. "You okay?" Dean asked, worry creeping into his voice.

"Yeah, just a little tired."

"You're not going to sleep on me again, little brother." Dean patted his shoulder. "I'm going to see if I can find Doctor Stewart. Don't go back to sleep or I swear to God I'll put itching powder in your pants again."

Sam chuckled and Dean hurried out of the room. As he closed the door, the older hunter let out a huge sigh of relief and let a smile play on his lips.

Sammy was awake, he was okay. That made Dean happier than he ever thought possible. He never knew how much he missed the kid until he wasn't around. And even though Sam had only been unconscious for twenty-four hours, it caused Dean greater fear than he'd ever experienced before. Those twenty-four hours of not knowing if Sam was going to be okay or not had been unbearable for him. It made him feel completely helpless and it just wasn't a feeling Dean was used to or would ever comprehend. He hoped to hell he'd never have to experience again.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sam watched Dean exit the room as his heart finally found its way to a steady, regular rhythm. Watching Dean jump off the roof sent the younger hunter over the edge, pushed him to his decision. Sam just couldn't believe his brother would ever commit suicide, it was the coward's way out, and Dean wasn't a coward. But then again, Sam didn't know what his brother was capable of, especially when it came to him.

He was still trying to wrap his head around what he'd experienced in the past twenty-four hours, what he'd been witness to. How in the world was he going to explain to Dean what he'd been doing while his brother was holding vigil by his bedside, not sure if he was going to wake up or not? It wasn't everyday a person got to meet not one, not two, but three people he thought he'd never see again. How do you explain that to someone, to Dean, without convincing them at the same time you weren't certifiably crazy?

But Sam had to admit, it had been an eye-opening experience, one he would never forget. Never in his twenty-three years did he realize how important he was to Dean, how important they were to each other. The fact they had this incredible bond amazed the young hunter to such a degree, he was still perplexed by it. He knew he and Dean had always been close, had been for all of his life. But to actually see what the two of them have accomplished and were going to accomplish made him smile.

But the bond they shared, it also scared the young psychic to an extent. To realize they were what each other depended on to live, to survive in this world, was something that rocked him to his very core. He got to see how Dean would be if he didn't have him to look after and he didn't like it, didn't like the person his brother had become. And how could he? Dean was a loose cannon capable of so many things, not mindful of the consequences in the end.

Sam wanted his brother to realize how important he was to him, to the world. He wanted Dean to see just what he did for him everyday, the courage he gave him. Sam never told him, but when he was growing up he wanted to be Dean—still wanted to be to this day. Dean was so much to Sam and the younger hunter was afraid his brother would never realize just what it was Dean provided him with everyday—love, courage, strength, and wisdom.

"I see you made your choice."

Sam tore himself away from his thoughts to see Layla was standing beside his bed, smiling at him. She appeared differently to him now than she did during the journey—she was surrounded by a soft yellow glow, almost angelic.

"You sort of gave me a push in the right direction."

"That was never my intention, Sam, but I needed you to see for yourself. I'm sorry it had to be so brutal."

Sam shrugged.

"It was a decision you had to make on your own, that was always our intention on bringing you on this journey."

"You have a funny way of showing that."

Layla smiled. "Maybe you just needed a little nudge."

"A little?" Sam shook his head. "Dean threw himself off a roof. I don't think you can get much bigger than that."

Layla shrugged. "It wasn't time for you to give up, Sam. You and Dean, you have a lot of work that still needs to be done. We all know that and we weren't about to let you give up that easily."

Sam didn't like what she was saying. Layla was making it sound as if everything was staged, that no matter what his decision would have been, they would have made it into what they wanted it to be. "So, everything I saw, that was fake…just a ruse to show me how much Dean needed me?"

"No, Sam, it was very real. Everything from your past and present, you know that happened. Everything else, Dean's life without you and the future, they are very real possibilities, still are as a matter of fact."

"You're saying in some other bizarre alternate universe, Dean could have turned out that badly. I was really witnessing what happened to him."

"Yes."

Sam frowned in confusion.

"You see, Sam, life isn't just one big hooplah. Just as there are two sides to every story, there are two sides of life. There is the life you know, the one you are living, then there's the one you are never to experience, the one filled with the what-ifs you ask yourself everyday."

"That's…bizarre."

"Is it?" Layla grinned. "It's how it's been from day one of our Creation. Only a select few get to see that other side of life. The life you are living right now, it's the one you're supposed to be living, Sam, the one that's been mapped out for you. I know you've had many hits in your life, but you've persevered, kept going."

"Because of Dean."

"The same goes for your brother as well. The reason you two are still together is because of the balance you create with each other. There will never be one without the other, no matter what. Somehow, the two of you will always find your way back to each other, no matter what happens. Just remember that, Sam, and things will fall into place like they're supposed to."

"I don't really buy into that whole future reading crap, but me and Dean—are we going to be okay?"

Layla smiled softly. "Sorry, Sam. That's a journey you and Dean are going to have to make on your own."

Sam nodded, almost relieved she didn't tell him the answer. While a tiny part of him wanted to know what the future had in store for him and Dean, a bigger part was content with it remaining a mystery. After all, that's what life was all about.

"Thanks, Layla."

"You're welcome, Sam." Layla kissed him on the cheek. "Tell Dean I said hi, and good luck with everything."

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Doctor Stewart smiled at the Winchester brothers as he lowered his stethoscope from Sam's chest. "Everything seems to be great. You're still going to have to watch that head injury and be careful with your foot. You can't be moving around a lot for at least the next week."

"But he's going to be okay?" Dean asked, his hand resting on his brother's arm.

Doctor Stewart nodded. "He's going to be back to normal in no time."

"Sammy, normal?" Dean shook his head. "You hear that, Sammy? The doc thinks you're going to be normal."

"Bite me."

"We still want to keep you for one more day for observation, Sam. After that, I don't see any reason why you can get out of here."

"Thanks, Doc," Sam said.

Doctor Stewart shook their hands and left the brothers to themselves. Sam let out a tired sigh and glanced at his brother. Dean was watching him, his brows furrowed and Sam could see he had something on his mind.

"How are you feeling there, Sasquatch?"

"I'm good, Dean."

"Good…good."

Silence enveloped the brothers as they both decided on what to say to each other.

"Dean, look…I'm sorry about what happened back at the Potter Plantation. It was my fault you weren't able to get rid of Matilda the first time."

Dean waved him away. "No, Sammy. I should be the one apologizing. I just…with all the stress from Dad's death and trying to figure out what this damn demon wants with you, I snapped. I didn't mean what I said to you back at the motel."

Sam nodded. Deep in his heart he knew Dean never meant the words he said to him at the motel. Dean was telling the truth about his stress level. Sam had seen it weighing down on his brother ever since John died and it didn't seem to be getting any better. He knew it was bound to come to a boiling point sooner or later.

"Look, Sam, I know I'm not a big fan of this chick-flick crap, but I figure I owe this to you. Consider it part of your Christmas present or something."

"Dean, you don't have to…"

"Yeah, Sammy, I do. So, just sit there and let me do this."

Sam held up his hands in mock surrender. He tried not to smile as Dean took a deep breath, trying to psych himself up to talk.

"When I saw you lying in that street, it scared the shit out of me. After everything that I've done, that I've hunted, I realized I've never been so scared, because for the first time, I saw I could actually lose you."

"Dean…"

"No, Sam." He shook his head. "I didn't know what to do. For the first time, I didn't know how to fix it, there wasn't anything I could fight. I've never had that problem before when it came to you. All I could do was sit here and wait. I gotta tell you, little brother, it's not something I'm terribly good at."

"Yeah, I know." Sam smiled.

Dean nodded, then hesitated and Sam was sure his brother wanted to say more but just didn't know how. "Sam…while you were sleeping, I spoke to Mom."

"What do you mean?"

Dean got up from his chair and began to pace the small room. "I don't know if it was the stress or what, but Mom was in here and she spoke to me."

"What did she say?"

"She told me she was proud of everything I've done. She told me you were going to be okay, Sammy. She was telling me not to worry because she was taking care of you."

"She spoke to me, too, Dean. So did Jess and Layla."

"Layla?" Dean's green eyes widened in shock.

"Yeah, Dean."

"But…when?"

Sam knew what his brother was asking him. "She died a few months ago."

Dean fell down in his chair and rubbed his face. "How is she? I mean, is she okay?"

"She's good, Dean, she's happy. She said to tell you hi, by the way."

Dean grinned and nodded.

"Look, Dean, some pretty weird things happened to me while I was out of it."

"What kind of things?"

The corner of Sam's lips turned up into a smile. "I got to see things, things I either forgot about or never thought possible."

"Like what?"

Sam sighed. He didn't want to say too much to his brother. He rarely kept anything from Dean, but the visions he'd seen he wanted to keep to himself, didn't want Dean to know the person he could have become if things were different. They would just weigh Dean down and Sam wasn't about to do that to him. So he would lie.

Sam shrugged. "It's all a big blur, but one thing kept screaming out at me."

"What's that?"

"You and me, we're a team. We may have our fights, but no matter what, we have to stick together."

"Oh, God…you're not going to get all sappy on me, are you?"

"Just shut up for once, Dean. Whether you like it or not, you're stuck with me until the very end."

Dean smiled. "That could be for a while because I don't know about you, but I plan on sticking around for a very long time."

"As long as it takes."

Dean reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, hastily wrapped gift. "I know I haven't done this in a few years, but I got you something."

"Dean, you didn't have to do that."

"We have this damn argument every time, Sammy." He thrust the gift at his brother. "Just take the present already."

Sam grinned and took the gift from his older sibling's outstretched hand. He saw Dean wrapped it up with a section of the Sunday morning comics. Eagerly tearing it open as if he were a small child, he smiled when the contents revealed a small Swiss Army knife.

Sam held it up and looked at the small token appreciatively. "Dean, this is great."

Dean shook his head, almost embarrassed. "I remember you always wanting one when you were a kid."

"Yeah, and you and Dad would never get it for me."

"That's because we were afraid you would be stupid enough to slice your hand open. But now, I think you've reached the big boy age."

Sam laughed. "Yeah, thanks."

"Seriously, Sam…I know we have our problems, but we always manage to work it out. I just want you to always know I'm going to be here for you, no matter what."

"I know you will, Dean."

Dean raised himself from his chair and stretched. "I don't know about you, but I could use a little caffeine. You want anything?"

"A coffee would be great."

Dean nodded and walked out of the room. Sam looked down at the small knife in his hand and smiled. He knew right then everything was going to be okay. Sure, he and Dean would have their fights, but in the end things were going to always work out. He and Dean only had each other and the young hunter was determined not to let anything ever change that.

After all, they were Winchesters…they were brothers.


End file.
